Always in My Heart
by BJC525
Summary: Still recovering from the attack by Naciemento, Scully and Mulder's lives are threatened by a case of mistaken identity that spirals out of control with potentially fatal consequences, shocking twists and startling revelations.
1. Chapter 1

You'll Be in My Heart

AUTHOR: BJC525

SUMMARY: Not yet fully recovered from her attack by Naciemento, Scully and Mulder attempt to take their relationship to the next level but a case of mistaken identity spirals out of control leading to a potentially fatal conclusion

DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, never were, you all know it. Onward, ho!

SPOILERS: Milagro, The Unnatural (brief), The Beginning. Characters are mentioned from previous episodes.

FEEDBACK: If it moves you, let me know. If it doesn't, that's okay... it moved me.

"You'll Be in My Heart" - Phil Collins

You'll be in my heart

From this day on

Now and forever more.

Chapter 1

Dana Scully could hear Mulder's voice as she exited the elevator. Pausing outside the door that was partially open, she smiled when she realized that he was talking to Frohike. She shook her head ruefully.

(Those guys,) she thought with more affection than she'd ever believed she'd have for Mulder's paranoid friends. Though she had referred to them as the Three Stooges more than once, she cared for them and knew that they cared for her, too. It was comforting, really, when you thought about it.

"Okay," Mulder was saying, "Just tell him I called and have him call me when he gets in."

Scully waited until Mulder hung up the phone before entering the office. He looked up at her arrival.

"Oh - hey Scully." He called out cheerfully. He leaned precariously back in his chair; a trick that Scully had never quite dared to do. And he had dared her several times.

"Hey yourself," she returned with a more than a touch of affection. She moved about the office, putting down her laptop computer, her purse, took off her coat and hung it on the coat rack, unaware that Mulder's eyes followed her every move.

Unaware, because Mulder was going to great lengths to keep Scully from noticing his surreptitious glances. (I don't - gaze - at her,) Mulder tried, unsuccessfully, to remind himself. (Well, all right, I do.) And he was doing it a hell of a lot more these past two weeks.

Personally, he was a bit worried that Scully - hadn't - noticed his increased observations of her every move but he decided that he had a pretty good idea why. His mind automatically drifted back to the incident with Padgett, where it all began.

Finding his partner on the floor of his apartment, covered in her own blood, he had been left speechless with horror. Relief that she wasn't dead was quickly supplanted with a new fear when Scully regained consciousness and sobbed hysterically in his arms.

Dana Scully never sobbed. And Dana Scully was not hysterical. Not after all the horrors she'd been subjected to had she ever cried like this. Hell, she almost never cried. (At least not in front of me,) he amended, a bit sadly. As if that incident wasn't mind-altering enough, three days later it happened again. He closed his eyes, remembering for the umpteenth time driving her home from the hospital.

She had sat in the car, holding herself stiffly; obviously she was still hurting. Doing his very best not to hover, he had followed her painstakingly slow steps up to her apartment, carrying the overnight bag he had brought her. Scully had taken two steps inside the door before sinking to the floor. Terrified all over again, he had dropped to his knees in front of her.

"Scully! Oh God - what's wrong?" He cried, his imagination taking off in several dire directions. As his hands reached up to cup her face, his eyes dropped to the front of her blouse, and he half expected to see blood, while he searched frantically for a clue as to what was going on with her.

Instead of answering him, Scully had launched herself into his arms, sobbing. Although he hadn't thought it possible, she was crying harder than before. Quickly he had scooped her up and rushed to her bedroom, intending to lay her down on the bed. Scully however, had other plans. She held on to him with all her strength and poured out everything that had happened with Padgett. Everything. Her thoughts, her fears, everything she had seen and felt when the hand had reached into her chest and attempted to remove her beating heart.

And as before, he had held her close and cried his own silent tears.

The next day, she seemed better and as was their usual MO, there was no further discussion.

Flashing forward to the next Saturday, he remembered working on those files. (Well, actually Scully was working,) Mulder mentally berated himself, remembering how he had let Scully lug those huge books down the stairs. (What was I thinking?) He silently moaned. (Well, obviously, I wasn't.) He couldn't believe he'd been that dense.

Then later; Scully's batting lesson. (Even I was sore the next day.) He recalled. Scully, though, had never complained about any discomfort at all. (Well, what do you expect? Scully isn't a - )

"Mulder? What's wrong?" Scully placed her hand on his arm and squeezed gently to get his attention. Her voice instantly pierced his painful struggle with the past and brought him back to the present.

With a start, Mulder looked up to see Scully staring at him, trying to mask her concern. He hadn't realized that she had moved closer and was kneeling at his side. His eyes found hers, their gazes locked. The worry she felt flowed from the cerulean depths and bathed his entire body. But instead of feeling comforted, guilt flooded throughout him. (She has enough to worry about without my adding to it.) He chided himself.

"Sorry, Scully," he said sheepishly, "I guess I kinda zoned out there."

"No kidding," she teased, trying to keep her tone light. "What's on your mind?"

Transfixed by her gaze, he was unable to come up with a plausible explanation. Actually, no coherent thoughts happened whenever she looked at him that way. The truth, however, wasn't an option at this point. Right now, he'd have to try and stall. This wasn't the time or the place.

"I'm fine. Really. I am. I just haven't had my usual caffeine dose for the day." He tried, with studied nonchalance, to throw her line back at her.

Scully blinked and shook her head. "Uh huh. Try again, partner." Her bantering tone wasn't fooling him though. She expected an answer.

Mulder sighed. (Well, I had to try,) and thought not for the first time that it wasn't fair that it always worked for her.

"It's not work related, Scully," he attempted to reassure her. (Well, not completely.) He amended silently. "And I do want to talk to you about it."

Scully opened her mouth to speak, but Mulder cut her off, "But not here. Not now."

Her shoulders slumped. "Okay. Fair enough." She allowed Mulder to assist her to a standing position, wincing slightly. Mulder clenched his jaw, but held his tongue.

(She-is-still having pain.) He thought in frustration.

"So Mulder, when would you like to talk?" She asked as she settled herself on the corner of the desk, crossing her legs at the ankles. She watched him closely, expectantly. If she had any idea what he wanted to discuss, she gave no indication.

"Scully, when are you going back to the doctor?" He asked anxiously, but firmly.

She jerked her head over, a spark of anger flashed in her eyes, but quickly died when she saw the fear that etched his features. She sighed. And then, to Mulder's utter amazement, she answered his question. "Monday."

Mulder's jaw almost dropped. He had been ready for a fight; anything to give himself time or the courage to get back to the talk he so desperately wanted to have.

Scully went on. "I was able to get an appointment for Monday morning, so I'll be a little late." She looked away. "I was going to tell you later."

(Oh really?) Mulder thought with a touch of amusement.

"You still haven't answered my question, Mulder." She pointed out with a smile.

Mulder took a deep breath. It felt like he was taking a leap of faith. "How about over dinner tomorrow night? We can start the weekend off with a bang."

Up went Scully's eyebrow. "A bang?"

Mulder cringed. "You know what I mean. Friday night - we don't have to get up early the next day."

Scully bit at her lower lip in an attempt to hide her grin. Point for her. "You mean we don't have to go through old files again this weekend?" she asked innocently. Point two.

"No." He said shortly. "So," he softened his tone. "Is tomorrow okay?"

The phone cut off Scully's reply. Mulder groaned as Scully answered it.

"Scully." There was a pause while the caller identified himself.

"Mom? Is something wrong?" Scully asked, instantly on alert.

Mulder grabbed coffee cup and hurried out, giving Scully some privacy. She smiled her thanks, which he acknowledged with a nod.

When he returned several minutes later, he found his partner seated in his chair, rolling a pencil between her fingers, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Is everything all right?" He asked worriedly.

She looked up at him. "With Mom, yes. But a friend of hers needs my help and I told her I would, but now I'm trying to figure out how to make it work."

"Anything I can do?" He inquired hopefully.

"Well," she paused, unsure how to proceed.

"Go ahead," Mulder urged her. "If I can, you know I will."

Scully rewarded him with an anxious smile. "I know you will. Would you be willing to change our dinner plans?"

Mulder's heart sank. Apparently so did his face.

"Not cancel them," she quickly assured him. "Just instead of going out - wait. Let me start at the beginning.

Mom's friend is Nancy Dickerson. Her husband, Dr. Theodore Dickerson has to leave town rather suddenly and she had already made arrangements to have some repair work done. She asked Mom to house sit because she doesn't want to cancel, but Mom already made plans to go to Charlie's. So I'm going to take her place. She told Mom that I could have the run of the house and it's a very nice house in the country. No one will be there and I'd hoped we could have dinner and our talk out there. They even have a pool and stables." She felt like she was babbling but she just couldn't stop. She didn't want to lose this chance with Mulder.

A genuine smile lit up his face in relief. "Sure, Scully. It sounds great." (There is a God.) He thought happily.

"There is a catch, though," she gave him an impish grin.

Suddenly wary, Mulder cocked an inquiring eye at her. "And what might that be?"

"I will have to take tomorrow and Monday off to be there for the workmen. Her housekeeper passed away last month and she hasn't found a replacement yet," she told him.

"No problem," he agreed readily. In fact, that would work out for the best. Scully had come back to work too soon after Padgett and a four-day weekend sounded made to order.

"Well then, it's settled. Mrs. Dickerson is on her way over to give me the keys and directions. I told Mom to tell her I'd have a visitor's pass and escort ready since she's in such a hurry. Oh, and before I forget; since you'll be driving all the way out there, I'll make dinner." She leaned forward to pick up the phone without giving him a chance to respond.

Mulder was left to ponder that scenario while Scully called Security.

Chapter 2

Scully was catching up on her typing when Nancy Dickerson rushed in, exactly one hour later, looking flustered and out of breath. Her short brown hair, with just a touch of gray, was windblown and sticking up in every direction possible.

She went straight to Scully and gave her a quick, grateful hug. "Dana, I can never thank you enough. You are a life-saver."

Mulder grinned: Well he'd known that for quite some time now.

Scully extricated herself carefully. "It's no trouble, Mrs. Dickerson. Really." Scully tried without success to hide her embarrassment. Mulder wasn't helping matters with that goofy grin on his face. "I'm just happy I can help. Oh, and by the way, this is my partner, Agent Fox Mulder."

"It's nice to meet you, Agent Mulder." She quickly shook his hand. "Okay - I don't have much time..." Nancy stepped back towards the desk, muttering to herself as she dug through her purse. "Keys..." She laid a small key chain with three keys attached on the desk. "Directions to house..." She pulled out a folded piece of paper and laid it next to the keys. "Phone numbers..."

Lastly, she handed a small red book to Scully. "The security company, landscapers - they'll come Monday - and the stable boy - Frank. Frank walks and grooms the horses everyday and also takes care of the stables. You won't even know he's there." She took a deep breath. "The repairmen will be working in the attic only. We had some storm damage and if we don't fix the problem soon, it's going to spread to the living areas. There's no cosmetic work; just structural, so there won't be any decisions to be made about color or carpet."

"Well, that's a relief," Scully said laughing.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, Mrs. Dickerson, where are you going?" Mulder asked politely.

Nancy stopped in her tracks and fixed Mulder with a mock glare. "Now that's a good question, Agent Mulder, because I have absolutely no idea. Ted refuses to tell me." She faced Mulder squarely. "What is it with you men - you think we can just pick up and go at the drop of a hat - traipsing off after you blindly - no questions asked."

"Yes, Mulder," Scully jumped in gleefully when she saw where Nancy was heading. "Please explain that for us."

Mulder's face went blank. (This is not good,) he thought fleetingly, before Nancy moved in.

"I'm not allowed to go home and pack. I'm supposed to just pick up what I need when I get wherever it is that we're going. Now that's all well and good for you guys, but most of you seem happy enough to shop at any local discount store that comes along. My tastes, however, are just a little bit more refined than that, as I'm sure Dana's are as well, and discount just doesn't always make the grade with us. Let me tell you this: if there isn't one nice department store close by, I'm going to be extremely unhappy. You understand, don't you, Dana?"

"Oh absolutely, Mrs. Dickerson. I know exactly how you feel." Scully kept her eyes away from Mulder, knowing that she'd never stop laughing if she looked at him right now. This was too good. Mulder would never be able to catch up in the Game today.

Mulder, for his part, threw up his hands in defeat. He was outnumbered and in a no-win situation and he knew it. "I surrender. You're both right. Don't shoot me."

Nancy laughed good-naturedly. "Excellent. Then my work here is done. Thank you again, Dana. I'll call you when I can and let you know what's going on. Agent Mulder."

"Good luck, Mrs. Dickerson," Mulder called after her, before giving in to the laughter that had been building inside him.

"She's got a point, you know." Scully said abruptly, when Nancy was out of sight, startling him into silence.

"Hey, wait a minute," he protested. "Don't you start in on me too, Scully. I threw out the white flag, remember?"

"That's right," Scully said in a satisfied tone. "And I won't let you forget it, either."

Mulder shook his head with a smile. "You win," he conceded with grace. "Now - are you going to tell me where this place is that I'm going to for dinner tomorrow night?"

Scully quickly copied down the instructions and phone number then handed him the paper. Mulder studied the words while his partner gathered up her things and moved towards the door.

"Wait a minute!" Mulder exclaimed. "Where are you going? It's not even lunch time!"

"I've got to go home and pack. I can't take the bag I use for our business trips: suits and scrubs are out of the question. Besides, you know how hard it is for me to go off at the drop of a hat without the proper clothing," she told him in her no-nonsense voice, daring him to say something.

Scully was definitely having fun at his expense and Mulder knew it. But seeing the sparkle in her eyes was certainly worth a little grief, so he kept his mouth shut and smiled.

"Good-bye, Mulder," she called breezily, already out the door. "See you tomorrow at 7:00 sharp. Don't be late."

Mulder leaned back in his chair and carefully propped his feet on the desk. Something in her tone told him that her statement was more significant than it pretended to be. (So, we're finally going to talk, Dana Scully. Well, I'm ready. In fact, I'm way past ready at this point. And ready or not Scully; here I come.)

Chapter 3

Scully said a silent prayer of thanks that she made it to her car without anyone stopping her along the way. The chest pain had come on suddenly, just as she was getting into the elevator to the parking garage and she knew, without a mirror, that her face was pale. She swallowed several times, trying to relieve the nausea that accompanied the ache that was impossible to localize.

Beads of perspiration sprang out across her forehead as she willed the elevator to hurry. By the time she got to her car, the pain was almost gone.

Fighting to control her fear, she leaned forward, her hands on her thighs and told herself in no uncertain terms that it was not angina; it was not heart pain. It wasn't. The doctors had assured her that her heart was fine. It was the muscles and cartilage that were causing her continued discomfort. She knew her body and she had an intimate working understanding of pain. This was nothing to be alarmed about.

On a basic level, she did realize that her logic was flawed; but being a doctor sometimes meant that your denial of your physical symptoms was much more powerful than any scientific logic. She took a cautious breath. The pain was gone, taking with it any doubts that might have continued to gnaw at her.

Looking around the deserted garage to make sure that no one had seen her earlier distress, she fished out her car keys and got in her car. Since there was no traffic, she made it home in half the usual time and hurried up to her apartment.

Contrary to what she had told Mulder, Scully knew that she really didn't need much time to get ready for her weekend in the country. Years of chasing after her partner had trained her well. Less than an hour after arriving at her apartment, she was back on the road again. It had been simple enough to fill her suitcase with casual clothes and impulsively add bubble bath to her toiletry bag. Lastly, she grabbed up her mail, made sure that all the lights were off and checked the answering machine for any messages before locking her door and heading back to her car.

As she traveled out of the city and into the countryside, she put the cruise control on and was not too surprised when her thoughts took off as well. The first thing that came to mind was the Dickerson home. Ten miles later, she had conjured up a detailed mental picture of a quaint antebellum home, surrounded by pecan trees and magnolias, maybe a pond.

She couldn't help but giggle self-consciously. Surely that image had absolutely nothing to do with the airing of "Gone With the Wind" two nights ago. (Right,) she giggled again, (absolutely nothing.) She thought ruefully that she didn't laugh enough and decided that hopefully she could change that. A few more batting lessons would be a pleasant start.

Then, Mulder's face flashed in front of her. It brought a small smile to her lips. Before she could blink, Padgett replaced Mulder's face. Scully gasped even as Tooms jumped up before her eyes. It was as if someone was running a macabre slide show. Her head swam. Almost blinded by her sudden tears, she managed to pull her car over to the side of the road without incident.

(Oh - God - please - stop,) she whimpered brokenly. (Please - make it stop.)

The images however kept coming at a sickening rate. Her entire existence since becoming Mulder's partner was replaying in her mind in stark detail. Antarctica - Cancer Man - Pfaster - Gerry - Krycek - Gibson - Fowley - Melissa - Ahab - Skinner...

Scully cried out, burying her face in her hands, trying to shut out the images that would not go away so easily. This was truly bizarre - a twisted version of a "deathbed - life flashing before your eyes" scenario.

She froze. (Oh, God, no...Is that what was happening? Was she DYING? )

"NO!" She again cried out, slamming her hands against the steering wheel. "This is NOT happening! And I am NOT dying!" Without warning, the pictures were joined by voices: hers and Mulder's, the words overlapping and unintelligible.

"Enough!" Her strict rationalism, as Mulder so eloquently put it, took over. With every ounce of mental strength that she possessed, she made her decision.

(That's it!) She slammed the mental door shut on the images and voices. She locked the door. (No more. Period. I am not dying and I am not going crazy!)

If this was her subconscious way of fighting her feelings for Mulder then she was not going to fight anymore. (Let the chips fall where they will,) she thought, resolutely.

"I love Fox Mulder." She said loudly. "Are you happy? Are you satisfied? I love him. And I'm going to tell him and I'm going to show him. Is that what you want?" She heaved a huge sigh. "I love you, Fox Mulder," she whispered, enjoying the way the words sounded to her own ears. "I love you."

Her shoulders slumped with the effort and her head hung low. All of a sudden, she was tired. Very tired.

Unbelievably, indescribably tired. And so the decision was made. It was simple really, when you took it to its most basic level.

She was not going to fight It anymore. Not entirely sure if she was dying or not, she was not about to waste another second fighting It. Mulder wanted to talk. So be it. For six years, Mulder had wanted to talk in his own way and she had resisted in every way imaginable. Why?

Oh, she knew that she could probably give herself a grocery list of reasons why. All of them quite valid, reasonable, and plausible. And totally ridiculous when you looked at where it had gotten her.

Yes, she had tried to talk to Mulder in her own way. "Don't you ever want to stop the damn car?" She shuddered at the memory. (Oh yeah, that had really opened up the lines of communication.)

(So, what does Mulder want to talk about?) She asked herself. (Maybe he's ready to stop the car, too,) she mused. (Stop it.) She chided herself fiercely, with a quick shake of her head. (Just stop it. Turn off the beam into his soul for once.) She held on to the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

Since day one, her life, as unpredictable and unorthodox as it was, with Mulder had been like nothing she could ever have imagined in her wildest dreams. Or nightmares. His very presence had turned her existence into something out of a Star Wars movie.

She immediately cringed at the comparison. (Okay, that's it. That's enough. You are not to think about It anymore. Stop fighting It.)

She reached for the radio and searched until she found a classic rock station. None of that 90's alternative stuff. Only the classics would do in times like this. She turned up the volume and let herself be carried away by Kansas, Styx, Journey, Aerosmith, Foreigner, and Pink Floyd and did not think about It. She had shut the door on the visions, voices, questions, fears and doubts and she did not look back.

She had done enough of that to last a lifetime. She was only looking ahead and she would talk with Mulder and she would take the next step...whatever that step might be.

The rest of her drive was uneventful. There were a couple of episodes of mild chest pain, but nothing like she had experienced earlier in the garage. She managed to ignore the pain and kept her concentration on the road and the music and did not think about IT.

As she got closer to her destination, she realized that she ought to stop for supplies to make dinner tomorrow, since the workmen would be there during the day. A quick stop at the grocer's and she was back on the road.

Her first glimpse of the Dickerson home left her stunned. Remembering her earlier musings about her preconceived idea of what it would look like, she was totally unprepared for what she was looking at now.

It was as though she had been transported to Cape Cod. As she drove up the paved driveway, she admired the manicured lawn and blooming flowerbeds. She parked the car in front of the gorgeous Victorian mansion and stepped onto the white wooden porch with gingerbread latticework. She took in the gray weathered shakes and the white window frames and shutters and breathed contentedly. She had caught sight of the stable peeking out from behind the house and smiled in anticipation. Quickly, she grabbed her things and hurried inside, eager to see her weekend getaway.

Wandering through the house she got a feel of the layout: the dining room with a large banquet table, a spacious library with dozens of shelves lined with a multitude of books, and a small parlor with a Steinway piano. Her eyes appreciated the soothing, restful earth tones of the living room.

It was the kitchen, though, that took her breath away. Generous countertops, glass-doored cupboards; it was huge. All the appliances seemed to be of the latest design.

She stepped out onto the sun porch and glancing to her right, she stopped in her tracks. The pool. Brightly colored flowers, torches, a waterfall and a Jacuzzi surrounded it. The deep blue water in the resort-style pool sparkled enticingly in the afternoon sun. (Oh yeah,) Scully thought happily. (This is going to be a great weekend.)

Chapter 4

Mulder showed up for work Friday morning at his usual time. By 11:00, he was seriously wondering why he had bothered, since he obviously wasn't going to get any work done without Scully. Sitting at his desk, he resolutely kept his back to the door. It was driving him crazy: he kept expecting his beautiful partner to float in, juggling her coat, coffee, briefcase and the occasional bagel. He sighed. Nothing was right when she wasn't here at his side.

He focused on the bulletin boards and the myriad of photos, news clippings, odds and ends, and THE POSTER. Only lately did he refer to his "I Want to Believe" poster as THE POSTER. He saw it that way in his mind, in all capital letters. Zeroing in on the bold white letters, he nearly laughed out loud at the irony. "I Want to Believe." Well, he didn't believe for a minute that Karen Berquist had replaced his poster, not for one minute.

If he thought that he loved Scully before, and he knew absolutely that he did, he learned something new the day that he discovered that it was actually Scully herself, who had replaced THE POSTER. She had gone to great lengths to keep secret her identity as the giver, but she had underestimated him. That was something she so rarely did. For now, he let her have her little secret: he was still too caught up with the increased level of his love and adoration of that petite redhead.

It would never cease to amaze him that his love for Scully, which consumed every fiber of his being, continued to find new ways to grow. Sometimes, he thought he would truly burst. Literally and figuratively.

Mulder glanced back at the phone willing it to ring.

(Maybe I should call her.) He actually went so far as to pick up the receiver before dropping it back on the hook. (No. She might be busy. And besides, what would I say? Better to save it for tonight.)

Tonight.

Anxiety crept through his veins and settled in his gut. He rubbed a nervous hand across his face.

"Getting cold feet, Mulder?" asked that irritating little voice in his head.

"Shut up," Mulder replied angrily. "I don't have cold feet. We ARE going to talk." He didn't stop to think how this would look if Skinner popped in and heard him talking to himself.

"Are you sure you're going to talk? Why is tonight any different from last night, or last week, or last year for that matter?" The voice was really starting to irritate Mulder.

"Because it is different!" He pounded his fists furiously on his desk. The stinging pain brought him around and he took a deep cleansing breath. "Tonight is going to be different." He had nearly lost her too many times and that incident with Padgett had been the last straw. It had been too easy in the past to pretend that they had all the time in the world. Well, it was time to face facts: they didn't have all the time in the world. He was not going to lose another day.

Without pausing to consider his actions, Mulder grabbed his coat and stormed out of the office. He wasn't going to wait any longer. He had waited long enough. "Okay, Scully, I'm coming..."

Chapter 5

Mulder left the Hoover building, realizing he wasn't exactly sure where he should go. His original intention had been to go straight to the Dickerson home, but common sense reigned him in. It was much too early, and he wasn't about to show up in a suit, dressed as Special Agent Fox Mulder. No, tonight he was going in as just Fox Mulder and he wanted to look the part. For that he needed to go home and change. Maybe even take a shower to calm his nerves.

As he toweled off, he realized that if his script played out the way he wanted, he might not be coming home tonight and concluded that he should pack an overnight bag. The bag was halfway closed when a thought struck him: the Dickerson's had a pool. Quickly, he grabbed his swimsuit before he lost his nerve, refusing to let his "Scully-in-a-bikini" fantasies invade his consciousness.

(Not now,) he told himself firmly. (Let's just be prepared and see what happens.) He looked around. (What else?) Glancing down, he saw that he was still wearing only a towel around his waist. (Good one, Mulder.)

Shaking his head ruefully, he reached for his boxers before realizing that he wasn't exactly sure of the dress code for tonight's dinner (date?). Stepping over to his closet, he considered his choices.

(Okay, the suit is definitely out of the question.) He found his black turtleneck and instantly rejected it.

(Too hot.) That and it always reminded him of a night of "funky poaching" with the Lone Gunmen after learning of Scully's cancer. (Nope. Not going there.) He thought, viciously stamping down any negative impressions. He had several white, gray, and even black t-shirts, had even packed a couple, but knew that they were much too casual. (So, what's left?)

He caught sight of a pair of khaki pants and grinned. Their undercover assignment in Arcadia. Man, he'd had fun out there and deep down thought that Scully had too, despite any evidence to the contrary. Over the years, learning what Scully wanted in life had been a painstakingly slow process and Mulder knew that he'd made plenty of mistakes in the past, but he prided himself on the fact that lately, he was getting better at not making the same one twice.

That planned community had really been over the top, but he thought that it was possibly close to something that Scully wanted. That was something else to talk about. Throwing on the khaki pants and pink Izod golf shirt, he added one last item to his bag: a pair of black velvet jeweler boxes.

He took a moment to look at the ring he had gotten for Scully upon their return to Washington. It wasn't the exact same ring she had worn. At the time, he couldn't come up with a way to obtain it and be 100% sure that no one would ever find out. So, he'd memorized the size and bought a similar one. Truth be told: he liked the new one better. The center stone was larger; 1.2 carats, but bezel-set so that there wouldn't be any prongs to snag on gloves. He had the jeweler put 16 channel-set, 2-point diamonds on either side with the center stone set low. He had even asked a female customer to try wearing the ring and then putting on latex gloves to see if it was a problem. She had happily reported that it was no trouble at all getting the gloves on over the ring.

Mulder closed the box with a sigh. (Would tonight be the night?)

Finally he roused himself from his reverie. (Enough. Time to get on the road.) He was almost out the door when the phone rang, stopping him in his tracks. He debated whether or not to answer, and then reluctantly picked it up. It might be Scully.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's Byers. I tried you at the office. Can you talk?"

"Actually, I was on my way out. What have you got?" Mulder asked, not unkindly.

"Oh, all right," Byers fumbled. "I wanted to let you know about a scientist who has been doing some incredible work on the 'God Module'."

That caused Mulder to pause. (Gibson Praise.) "Talk to me."

"Apparently, he recently made an incredible breakthrough, details unknown at this time, although we're still checking." Byers informed him. "I thought, in light of your previous interest, you might want to talk with him, also."

Holding the cordless phone and pacing restlessly, Mulder chewed on his lower lip a moment before replying. "Okay. Yeah, I would - but I can't today. What's his name and where can I get in touch with him?"

"Well, Dr. Dickerson has a lab in New Jersey -"

"Wait a minute!" Mulder cut him off. "Dr. Dickerson? Dr. Theodore Dickerson?" He asked, struggling to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Yes," Byers answered. "You know of his work?"

"Not exactly," Mulder said evasively. "Go ahead and give me the address and phone number of the lab and I'll get back to you." Mulder took down the information, and hung up the phone, his thoughts whirling.

Dr. Dickerson makes some breakthrough on the "God Module" just months after Gibson disappears, leaves town unexpectedly, but doesn't even tell his wife where they're going. He couldn't wait to find out if Nancy Dickerson had been able to call Scully. Instinctively he thought it unlikely. It seemed more probable that Nancy was completely in the dark about her husband's work, otherwise she would never have asked an FBI agent to housesit. (Or would she?)

Mulder grabbed his bag and ran, slamming the door shut behind him.

Chapter 6

Mulder kept his eyes on the road, but his thoughts kept returning to the Dickersons. There were so many questions to be answered, not the least of which was the nature of this "breakthrough". If Gibson Praise was Dr. Dickerson's lab rat...Mulder shook his head, remembering the last time that poor boy had been operated on and the look on Scully's face as she changed the bandages covering his scalp. It was difficult not to think about what he'd do if Gibson wasn't all right. And Scully. Her reaction, also, did not bear contemplating. After everything that they'd both lost, losing Gibson would just add rocket fuel to the already blazing inferno.

Arriving at the front gate, he yielded to a large work truck, filled with equipment and several laborers leaving the property. Mulder glanced down at his watch; 4:50. A little over two hours early. With the car in neutral, he glanced round, looking for inspiration when his gaze lit upon a field of wild flowers. Flowers. That's what he should have brought with him. Backtracking into town, he found a florist shop and picked out a dozen long-stemmed Fire and Ice roses, which the clerk wrapped with a silver ribbon and added baby's breath and greenery. Perfect. Simple but elegant.

Twenty minutes later, he was back at the front gate and resolutely drove through. Maybe he could help her set the table or something. (No turning back now,) he told himself. (It's now or never...)

Driving up the circular driveway, he couldn't help but admire the surroundings. It was so peaceful out here and he fervently hoped that Scully was taking full advantage of the fresh air and beautiful landscape. He stared over at the front door before turning off the engine. (Why do I feel like a teenager at his date's house?) He thought as he picked up the flowers and stepped onto the porch.

When Scully didn't answer on the second ring of the doorbell, he took a chance and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He knocked once and poked his head inside.

"Hey, Scully! Where are you?" He called out expectantly trying to keep his fear in check. Everything was quiet though, as he moved further inside and shut the door behind him.

He caught sight of the dining room, the table already elegantly set with candles waiting to be lit. Mulder smiled. The rich smells of tomatoes, oregano and garlic pulled him into the kitchen and a peek in the oven revealed a large pan of lasagna. It looked like it hadn't been in too long and the dishrag she'd been using was still damp. But where was she?

Finally making his way to the back porch, he got his first look at the pool area.

And Scully.

Mulder thought his heart might truly stop. His legs were rooted to the ground and he could only stand there, staring at her. She was pulling herself up the ladder, out of the water, her auburn hair darker by several shades when wet and clinging to her scalp.

(Oh - my - God...she was really and truly wearing a bikini...) It was all he could think as he literally gaped at her in pure admiration and a kind of reverence. He took a shaky breath as she retrieved her towel and began wringing the water from her hair. He stood immobile - frozen - unable to look away, instead reveling in the glory of her glistening, ivory flesh.

For Mulder, it was as though time now moved in slow motion, his eyes glued to his partner and her every unconsciously sensual move while wearing a very revealing teal number that did more for him than seeing her naked in the Antarctica ever had. (Of course the circumstances are entirely different,) he allowed, feeling drunk and lightheaded and loving every second of it.

He was bedazzled.

He was stunned by the violence of his emotions and his brain was struggling mightily to make some sense out of his reaction to seeing Scully in a bikini. He had the sudden sensation of being picked up by two strong hands and being set down in a brand new world...in Paradise.

So enraptured was he, that he failed to notice that she was moving towards him. Her head down, Scully also didn't realize that he was there until they were a mere five feet apart. Both gasped in shock.

Scully instinctively clutched the colorful beach towel closer to her body as she stared open-mouthed up at her partner.

Mulder found his voice first. "Sorry if I'm a little early." He waited a beat before extending the roses.

"Here - I hope you like them." He said almost shyly. (Don't let her be angry,) he thought desperately. (Don't let her throw me out.)

"I'd say that you're more than a little early, Mulder," she said mildly, as she took in his outfit before reaching for the roses. "They're lovely. Thank you." Casually, she dropped the towel on a nearby chair as she moved past him. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable while I go change?" With a mysterious Mona Lisa smile, she went inside, leaving Mulder staring after her, in stunned amazement.

She walked away from him without a towel or any type of cover-up, inviting his eyes, giving him plenty of time to ogle to his heart's content, taking in every inch of her sculpted arms and legs, rounded bottom, slim hips, and provocatively curved waist.

"Is that really you, Scully?" He muttered to himself as he went inside to wait.

Restlessly, he paced the living room awaiting his partner's return. savoring the memory before getting back to the matter at hand.

What prompted this shift in her behavior? Still pacing like a caged animal, he began to think that maybe, just maybe, she was at the same place he was. Could it be?

After all these years of playing the game, and dodging, avoiding, and flat-out refusing to deal with their true feelings for one another, no matter what the reason, could it be that they were finally on the same page?

"Mulder, you're going to wear a hole in Mrs. Dickerson's carpet if you keep that up."

Mulder whirled around to see Scully standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling indulgently over at him, her blue eyes twinkling.

Chapter 7

Silently he watched her with hooded eyes, as she walked slowly towards him. His hazel eyes darkened imperceptibly as they raked over her from head to toe, missing nothing. Her auburn hair framed her face with just a hint of curl and her flawless skin reflected the light of the sleeveless, flowered chiffon dress that she wore. The hem skimmed the tops of her slippered feet, and several layers that oh-so-gently hugged her body in a way that made him jealous of the fabric. The scooped neckline allowed her gold cross to catch the light, twinkling in the afternoon sun.

He realized with a start that she was not wearing heels, choosing instead to present herself as a tiny delicate flower and he was captivated all over again. He definitely intended to get this talk out of the way so that he could scoop this gorgeous creature up and carry her away.

"Would you like a glass of wine, Mulder? Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes." She continued to gaze up at him; an indulgent smile touched her lips at his obvious delight in her appearance.

"That would be great, Scully." He managed somehow.

Nothing more was said until she returned with two glasses and they had settled comfortably on the sofa. Mulder didn't see her wince slightly when her recurrent chest pain flared briefly.

"Scully, you look incredible." Mulder said softly, sincerely.

"Thank you. You look very nice yourself," she returned, taking a small sip of wine.

Several minutes of silence ensued.

When Mulder didn't continue, Scully elected to take the initiative. "Tell me something, Mulder. Would this dinner and conversation that you wanted to have, by any chance have something to do with Padgett?" There, she'd said it. Just saying his name evoked a panic that stole her breath away. She forced herself to inhale and exhale slowly, calmly and quietly.

Mulder swallowed and stared at her, choosing to answer honestly and forthrightly. "In a way. I'm realizing how much that whole episode truly frightened me."

Scully's eyes widened at his admission. He continued, not giving her a chance to speak.

"As scared as I was, and let me tell you that I was plenty scared, what scared me the most was seeing how badly you were scared. I've never seen you like that and I hope that I never do again. So, yeah, this has something to do with Padgett. But let me be perfectly clear on this point: he was the catalyst - not the cause. We've needed to talk for years. He didn't make me suddenly realize that I love you and you know that."

Scully lowered her eyes in acknowledgment. She did know that. Of course she did. "And I love you, Mulder. I would hope that you know that, too."

He scooted over on the couch so that he could take her face gently in his hands, causing a small sigh to escape her lips. Eyes bright with unshed tears, she stared up at him.

Without hesitation, he bridged the gap between them and kissed her softly and chastely, marveling at how her lips were as warm and richly smooth as the rest of her. Marveling at the pure joy he felt, he couldn't believe it had taken him this long to really kiss her. He leaned back and she opened her eyes.

"What I'm trying to say, is that I'm - in - love with you. For once in my life, I have the strength, strength you've given my by the way, to say this. Dana Scully, I love you with all my heart, with all my soul and with all that I am. I always will and we deserve to let that love take us as far as our heart's desire." He leaned in to kiss her again, deeper this time, finding her lips were as open to his seeking mouth as her whole heart.

"Mulder..." she murmured spellbound, almost afraid to move. Was this really happening? Or was it a dream that she was about to lose by waking?

Reluctantly, he released her face then reached for her hand, unwilling to stop touching her, drawing courage from her. "I have to say this, Scully. I know it will seem totally out of character, and even as I say it, I can't believe it."

Scully remained silent; clenching his hand fiercely and watching him struggle.

He went on. "A few nights ago, I happened to catch a TV interview with Peter Gabriel, the singer. You've heard of him, right?"

She simply nodded. Of course she had and he continued.

"There was a song he mentioned and something he said about it really affected me." He paused, not really believing that he was sitting here telling her that the words of a song said everything he felt about her. "It's called 'In Your Eyes'. I don't know if you ever remember hearing it."

Glancing over at her, it seemed to him that right now she was barely remembering how to breathe. He plunged ahead. "Gabriel described it as a 'search for wholeness'. Well, the title and what he said intrigued me; I couldn't let it go, so I did some checking. When I read all of the lyrics..." He stopped, fumbling for the words. "I don't know if I can describe how it touched me."

"I have heard the song," Scully said, almost too softly for him to hear. "It's breathtakingly beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with me." She took a deep breath and forced herself to get the most painful question out of the way. "Mulder, I have to know: what about Agent Fowley?"

Mulder grimaced. "Having a degree in psychology doesn't make you immune to mind games and manipulation. With your help, I now recognize her for what she is and I want to apologize for my behavior. I know that I handled it badly and if I hurt you, please know that that was never my intention. If I could do it all over again, I would and I would do it much differently. Especially knowing what I know now." He fixed her with an earnest stare. "Don't you see, Scully? Everything is different now. It's like I'm finally seeing clearly for the first time in my life. Give me a chance to show you. I've learned so much with you and about you. Please, please let me show you how much. Give me that chance. Give us that chance."

Scully couldn't help but offer up a token argument. "What about work, Mulder?"

"We'll take care of it, Scully," he responded.

"How?" She asked curiously.

Feeling like he was making progress, Mulder inched a little closer. "Your work, my work, our work. Scully, we've done this for six years now. Nothing about that changes. Nothing. Life is a road - it's not straight and flat and isolated. Our direction changes as does our individual destinations, and I believe we have many destinations. Scully, do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," she replied without hesitation. There was no doubt that she trusted him implicitly – heshouldn't even have to ask, her expression told him plainly.

"Do you love me?" He asked.

She froze. She definitely wasn't used to hearing that. She loved him, though; she had for so long now, but to hear him ask took her by surprise.

She reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand. "With all my heart, Mulder," she answered softly, not only with her voice, but also with her eyes. "I love you so very much."

He smiled and took her hand and placed it over his heart. "I'll always love you, Scully. And I promise: I'll always be right here for you." He paused. "Finding Samantha..."

"Samantha..." Scully echoed.

"Samantha, knowing what happened to her, the truth, all of it. Until you joined me on this road, I've just been traveling in circles. And that aspect of the road of my life is not the be-all-end-all of my existence. I've truly accepted the possibility that I might never know it all. No matter how painful it might be, it's true. That pain however, cannot compare to the pain I'd feel not knowing what life with you would be like as more than just my business partner and friend. I can't keep dredging up the past, but with everything that's happened to us - to you -"

"Mulder - stop - please." She placed the tips of her fingers against his lips and pressed softly, halting his words.

A dagger of fear pierced his soul. (It's over. Did I blow it?)

Scully kept her fingers against his lips. "The past is over. It's done. It's changed us in so many ways and yet we can never change it. The future..."

Mulder grasped her hand and placed it against his heart. "You alone are my future. In the future I want you body and soul. I want to take you in my arms and never let you go. I want to go to bed at night lying next to you and wake up in the morning still holding you close. I want to be able to reach out and caress you whenever you walk by," he told her with passionate conviction.

Scully remained silent. She had always felt as if there were two immense knots linked together inside of her, one in her heart and one in her head. Before tonight, if she dared to think about matters of true love, one of the knots might come undone and she was unable to imagine what would happen to her then. Men in the past had tried to get them untied and although the knots had sometimes loosened, they had never come undone. One or the other always held firm. Staring at Mulder, she finally understood.

All this time, since she had joined him, Mulder had patiently and tirelessly worked on the knots, loosening them. Somehow he knew that to get to the heart, you had to go through the head. Sometimes the knots resisted his efforts, but he had never given up. The progress he had made had gone unnoticed by her conscious mind and she realized that he had finally dispensed with subtlety last week at the batting lesson.

(Get over here, Scully.) She blushed at the memory, feeling his arms around her.

And here he was, sitting before her, professing his love, trusting her as always. Scully felt the knots come untied at last and fall away. It was as if a great load had been lifted and she suddenly felt as light as a feather, ready to float away on Mulder's love.

Mulder had watched her closely, apprehensively. It almost scared him to see her like this, all her emotions on the surface for him to see. She was usually so strong, so centered, so in-control that seeing what she had always kept hidden unnerved him. For so long, she had hidden her vulnerability behind her quick, intelligent mind and piercing blue eyes. Since Padgett, though, the façade had been slipping more and more - but only around him, only when they were alone. Just brief, tantalizing glimpses. And now, sitting here in that clinging chiffon dress instead of her usual power suits he had to stifle the urge to pick her up and never let her go.

With tears of joy flowing silently down her cheeks, Scully went to him. Her smile intensified the light. Her face was radiant as she stretched out her arms to him in undisguised welcome, in pure joy.

Mulder, his heart bursting with euphoria, enveloped her completely in his arms, smothering her with kisses and murmuring over and over, "I love you."

"Dr. and Mrs. Dickerson. Don't move."

Chapter 8

At the sound of the harsh command, Mulder and Scully froze. Utterly and completely shocked by the intrusion, Mulder took one look at his partner's eyes and knew by her expression that she was unarmed. (Oh no,) he thought in mind-numbing horror, (So am I.) His gun and holster were in his jacket, five feet away on the recliner.

Realizing that the two men in combat fatigues believed that they were dealing with a scientist and his wife, Mulder pushed Scully away as hard as he could, even as he threw himself in the opposite direction, off the couch.

Before the startled intruders could bring their guns around, the FBI agents scrambled forward and each tackled the man closest to them.

Mulder charged like a raging bull, but his target shifted at the last possible second. Mulder's forearm caught the gunman solidly in the gut. The man groaned in agony and slumped over but recovered quickly and threw an arcing roundhouse punch that caught Mulder's upper arm. He made no sound, gritting his teeth against the pain. As the arm instantly went numb, Mulder realized that the man was powerful and scarily strong. (Scully!) Desperation struck him.

Despite the risk, he glanced over in time to see the other gunman throw his partner to the floor and tackle her. He heard her moan, the heart-wrenching sound sending a wake-up call to his brain. (Finish this guy!)

Mulder slammed his fist into the guy's stomach again. The man gagged and retched with the force of the blow. Mulder followed with a hard left punch to the man's jaw that sent him reeling. Before he could take him out, though, the intruder launched an explosive kick, catching Mulder in the already injured shoulder, resulting in an explosion of nauseating pain that drove him to the ground.

Dazed, Mulder rolled to one side, but the gunman was on him before he could recover. A lightning quick punch caught the left side of his head and was immediately followed by a second, catching him in almost the same spot and then a third. Blackness overcame him quickly and completely.

Scully, for her part, used the element of surprise to her advantage. As the man's weight pressed her into the unyielding floorboards, she braced her legs and twisted her body hard to the left. Suddenly she was free. But it was an extremely short-lived victory. Powerful hands grabbed at her like a vise and managed to catch her left arm just below the elbow. She was yanked back violently, nearly dislocating her shoulder. With a strangled cry, Scully allowed her body to be pulled around, and brought her right fist into his nose.

The momentum gave the punch an extra kick and she heard the satisfying crunch of bone. She was immediately released as the gunman dropped to one knee, both hands flying to his face. Scully had drawn back her fist again when the other gunman struck her from behind. The impact left her breathless and wondering how she'd been blindsided. The pain coursed through her entire body like a tidal wave. She caught sight of Mulder, lying unconscious, before another blow sent her following him into oblivion.

The two gunmen, breathing hard, stared in disbelief at their handiwork. Neither could believe how violent things had gotten.

"Hey Cap," said the one who had taken out Mulder. "I thought you said this would be a piece of cake." He rubbed his aching stomach, still nauseated.

"It was supposed to be," Cap muttered angrily, trying to determine if his nose was broken. It was taking all his self-control not to kick the woman lying at his feet. "Look Sarge, go get the stretchers and the med kit. I want to get Doc and the little wife here packaged up and ready to go before they come around. The Boss won't like it if the goods are damaged."

Sarge hurried out, as Cap checked the pulses of his victims. Both were strong and reassuringly steady. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Sarge returned with the equipment and the two men went to work. They placed Mulder on a stretcher and strapped him down firmly with four-point leather restraints. While Sarge bound Scully to the second stretcher, Cap started an IV in Mulder's arm. He taped it securely and adjusted the rate to the slowest drip rate possible. "Sarge, you got her down?" He called over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir. Snug as a bug." Sarge replied with a grin. (We did it,) he thought exuberantly, already planning what to do with the bonus money.

"Good. Get over here and give the doc 2 amps while I get this other line started." Cap gathered his supplies and switched places with Sarge to kneel at Scully's side. "Wheel him out when you're done. I'll medicate the little lady and meet you out there."

Sarge nodded and hurriedly left the house, pulling the stretcher behind him. Cap joined him several minutes later and together they loaded Scully and Mulder into the back of an unmarked ambulance. Cap climbed into the back as Sarge got behind the wheel and drove off.

"Cap, do you want me to call the Boss now?" Sarge said with a satisfied smirk.

"Not yet," Cap answered thoughtfully.

"I guess we showed 'em, right, Cap?" Sarge laughed. "We got the doc."

Cap leaned back with a smile. Sarge's enthusiasm was almost infectious. (Yes, I showed them.) He and Sarge had been left off the teams sent out to retrieve Dr. Dickerson, having made a near-fatal error on their last assignment. They were punished and humiliated. The Boss was going to be mighty surprised to find that it was his hunch that the doc would return home. It had been his belief that Dr. Dickerson had sent the Boss' teams on a wild goose chase with the intention of hiding out in his own home. Ingenious when you thought about it. (And if it hadn't been for me, it would have worked,) Cap thought. None of the Boss' teams were even in the state.

"Pretty good, Doc," he told the sedated Mulder, "But not good enough to get past Cap."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 9

Cap kept a close eye on "Dr. and Mrs. Dickerson" throughout the drive to the compound. Now that he had them, he wanted to make sure nothing would happen to them. Not for one minute would he underestimate the importance of the two people lying in a drug-induced stupor before him. The Boss had been quite clear on that point.

For just a moment though, he let himself think about the bonus money before forcing himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. (Dani had better have everything ready like I told her, or she's gonna find herself in a world of hurt,) he promised, desperately wishing that he could call and check in on her. "Might as well wish you were twenty years younger," he muttered.

"Sarge," he called out. "How much further?"

"About 45 miles to the ferry," Sarge called back. "I've been doin' the speed limit like you said."

"All right." Cap stared resolutely ahead. He didn't want Sarge to know how nervous he was. There were still so many things that could go wrong, not the least of which was getting pulled over by the police. An unmarked ambulance in the middle of nowhere would be pretty hard to explain.

They made the rest of the trip in silence, without incident. Cap rechecked his prisoners' pulses: his was okay, hers seemed a little fast. With a small frown, he increased the drip rate slightly.

When they arrived at the ferry, Cap finally began to believe this was going to work. "It has to work," he told himself. "I deserve that money. And a little respect." He had worked too hard to lose it now.

Sarge got them safely across to the tiny island and the low-level security facility that the government had formerly used. Five years ago, the government had abandoned it for more high-tech operations. Although the complex was small, the Boss had made plenty of improvements. Cap chose this location because right now, with all other available men searching for the Dickersons, the compound was deserted.

Sarge pulled up to the automated checkpoint and inserted the magnetic passkey. The computer accepted it and automatically opened the gate. The checkpoint was situated between a double run of electrified barbwire, eight feet high and encompassing the complex on three sides. A cliff that looked out over the Atlantic Ocean protected the fourth. He drove through slowly; keeping an eye out for the two trained Dobermans that patrolled the ten-foot wide space between the inner and outer runs. The computer faithfully opened the inner gate and once Sarge was through, closed and locked the gates.

When the ambulance came to a halt outside the Visitor's Quarters, Cap moved quickly. The Visitor's Quarters was actually a three-storied dormitory with twelve living areas, smaller than apartments but larger than a jail cell and just as secure. Each had a bathroom, bedroom and den, sparsely furnished and with no windows and only one steel door. There was also no kitchen; all meals were made and served by Dani.

Sarge came around to the back of the ambulance and opened the door, looking in at Cap expectantly.

"Okay, Sarge, let's get our guests unloaded."

The two men quickly and efficiently settled Mulder and Scully on the bed.

"Take out the IV's, Cap?" Sarge asked.

Cap paused. "Hang on a minute." He stared at Scully, rechecking her pulse. It had been six hours since their capture and it seemed that her heart rate was still a little fast. "Hopefully it pumps faster naturally," he mumbled, unsure, since nothing else seemed amiss.

"What's that, Cap?"

"Nothin'. Give the doc another amp and then take out the IV. I want them out a little while longer." Cap himself gave Scully half an amp of the powerful sedative, letting the IV run wide open to circulate the drug before removing it.

Sarge completed his task and followed Cap out of the room, locking the door on his way out.

Cap double-checked the lock. "Get Dani and have her meet me in the main office. Then I want you to take care of the dogs. You know Dani's too scared to go anywhere near 'em."

"Sure thing, Cap." Sarge hurried off to find Dani with a pang of disappointment. He would rather hear Cap telling the Boss how they'd outsmarted all the other teams and captured the elusive Dr. Dickerson. (Just keep thinkin' about the money. Show me the money.) He laughed at his own joke.

In the Main House, Cap poured himself a straight shot of scotch with hands that trembled slightly. He downed it quickly in an attempt to keep his nervousness at bay. The liquid fire promised to help since it had been over eight hours since he and Sarge had eaten. Even as he poured another shot, his mind automatically reminded him why he was in so much trouble with the Boss. "Hell, I guess damn near killing your own boss would get you in serious trouble no matter what your line of work," he muttered. Oh yeah, he had shot the Boss and he and Sarge had paid dearly.

The fact that there were so few men in the organization had been the only thing that had kept them alive. You screw up once and you count your blessings if you're given a chance to redeem yourself. Cap and Sarge had screwed up once. The Dickersons were their chance for redemption, a chance that was not given but would be taken.

Cap waited several more minutes before picking up the phone, taking another shot of the alcohol. (Careful,) he warned himself. (Courage from a bottle can turn on you on a dime.)

Finally, he grabbed the receiver and punched speed dial. The Boss answered on the second ring.

"Who is this?"

"It's Cap."

"Cap." The voice was cold. "What do you want?"

Cap actually felt a shiver run down his spine. "I got the doc." He was inordinately pleased that he'd kept his

voice from betraying any emotion.

"You got - what - doc?"

Cap swallowed. "Doc - doc Dickerson." He paused for a moment and when there was no response, added, "And his wife."

Silence.

"Where?"

"At his house. I - I had this hunch." (Don't lose it now,) he ordered himself.

"You had a hunch." The Boss sounded incredulous.

"Yeah - that he'd go back to his house. You know, hide in plain site." Cap struggled not to sound smug.

"That he'd play us for fools."

"Yeah - no! No!' Cap cursed himself as every kind of fool. "No - nothing like that." He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"You weren't assigned to any of the search parties." Now the voice was grim.

"I know. We just wanted to cover all the bases. Make sure that we got him."

"We?"

Cap froze. "Uh - we. Me and Sarge."

The Boss drummed impatient fingers on the desk. "You got just the two of them?"

Cap released the breath he'd been holding. "Yeah."

More silence.

"They're not hurt are they?"

Cap caught the thinly veiled threat. "They put up a hell of a fight, but they ain't hurt. They're both sedated right now."

"Where are you?"

"We're holed up at the island."

"All right. I'll be there in three days, sooner if this storm breaks. Just stay there. Don't call anybody else.

Nobody. Dani's there, right?"

"Yeah," Cap swallowed.

"Let the good doctor stew. Don't have any contact with them until I get there. Let Dani be the only one to go anywhere near them. Is that understood?"

Cap gulped. "Understood." It was made perfectly clear to him that he was still on the Boss' shit list and Dani was the only trustworthy one in the Boss' eyes. The Boss was ruthless, no doubt about it.

When he realized that he'd been hung up on, Cap closed his eyes, took several deep breaths and managed to keep his anger in check. He had to stay in control. It was all coming together.

After several seconds, he reached over for the bottle of scotch and caught sight of Dani staring at him blankly. Startled by her totally silent entrance, he dropped the scotch. The bottle shattered on impact, sending the tiny shards of glass flying to land in the puddle of amber liquid.

"Shit!" Cap swore as he carefully stepped back from the debris, wondering how long the girl had been standing there. He stormed over to her, intending to take out his embarrassment on her and hoping to scare her for once. As usual, she held her ground without flinching or even blinking. Cap had yet to figure out if she was truly unafraid or too stupid to know the danger. He grabbed Dani by the front of her blouse and dragged her over to the desk. Dani went willingly enough and still her expression and her eyes remained vacant.

Cap huffed in frustration as he began writing. Yelling at Dani was an exercise in futility - she was deaf, did not speak and did not read lips. The Boss used her as a kind of housekeeper on the island and gave her free reign of the place but forbade her from ever leaving. Dani never seemed to mind. In fact, Cap had never seen any real emotion on the young woman's face. She was almost like a robot and it gave him the creeps. Cap had asked the Boss about Dani once, but had not received any information other than Dani was special and untouchable.

As he continued writing down Dani's instructions, he wished as he did every day, that Dani could read lips.

Writing everything down was a pain in the ass. Finally he shoved the paper into her hands and stormed off. He was tired and he was going to bed.

Dani waited until Cap was gone before smoothing out the paper and reading its contents:

Dr. & Mrs. Dickerson in VQ. They are VIP. Feed them. Boss here-3 days. Clean up mess in here.

Dani threw away the instructions and went to get a broom.

Chapter 10

Darkness. Through the darkness, an intense throbbing behind his eyes, a horrible pulsating pain that caused him to moan softly. Vaguely, he remembered fighting with a man who had called Dr. Dickerson. What had happened next was a blur. The blinding pain stole his concentration and he moaned again. Without opening his eyes, he knew that he was lying on a bed and that someone was lying next to him. Hesitantly, his eyes still closed, he reached out and his hand touched the body lying an arm's length away.

Scully. (Thank God,) he thought as he managed to push past the incredible agony and pull himself closer to her and slide one arm under her shoulders. Using what little strength he had left, he drew her even closer, pillowing her head on his chest and locking his arms around her, before succumbing to the lingering effects of the drug.

Chapter 11

Sometime later, Mulder again regained consciousness, and this time, he was much more lucid. He still had a nagging headache, but the pain was tolerable, so he pushed on. He discovered that his right arm was completely numb and the momentary fear he felt dissipated when he realized it was because Scully was on top of it. With her body lying almost completely on top of his, he could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

Still a little groggy, Mulder couldn't help but smile. Not the way he had pictured being in bed with Scully, but for just a few precious minutes he intended to enjoy the experience. He couldn't stop himself if he tried to anyway. This was like a dream come true. (Well, kind of.)

(Man, is it hot in here.) He thought disjointedly, as he struggled to sit up, a job made more difficult because his joints were so incredibly stiff and sore. Gently he extricated himself from under Scully and rolled her over to get a better look at her and try to determine why she hadn't yet awakened.

"Oh shit!" He cried, his voice almost unrecognizable to his own ears. Now he was wide-awake. He realized in a split second that it wasn't "hot in here", but that Scully, herself, was hot! With hands that shook, he brushed back the hair that was sticking to her face and realized that she was burning up with fever.

"Scully! Scully, please, please wake up," he pleaded desperately. Any discomfort he had been experiencing was instantly forgotten. Quickly he looked around for anything that he could use. There didn't seem to be much. With a light shining from an adjoining room as the only illumination, he saw the room they were in contained a bed, and two end tables, each with a lamp but no phone.

Loath to leave her side, he went to the lighted room, which turned out to be a bathroom. Fighting the panic that threatened to consume him, he located washcloths and towels. The medicine cabinet contained toiletries but no medications so he grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in cold water. It was then that he caught sight of the needle puncture in the bend of his right arm.

"Shit!" he swore again. They'd been drugged!

Racing back to Scully, he found an identical mark in the bend of her left arm. He also noticed that she seemed to be having difficulty breathing and on a hunch, propped her up on both pillows so that she was reclining at a forty-five-degree angle. For how long, he couldn't say, but over and over he tenderly sponged her arms, her neck and her face, calling to her softly and going back every couple of minutes to rinse the cloth in cold water after her increased body heat had neutralized the chill.

At last, she seemed to be improving, even though she had yet to regain consciousness. Mulder desperately tried to figure out what was going on. (Please, don't let them have overdosed her,) he begged silently to whoever had kidnapped them, apparently because they thought that they were the Dickersons.

"Dammit!' He hissed. He realized that he had been trying to rouse Scully by calling her by name. If this place was bugged, they were sunk. (Too late now,) he thought helplessly. His main focus now was to find out what was wrong with Scully. Was it because of the drug?

"But how?" He asked himself. He wasn't a doctor but he'd never heard of a drug - causing - a fever.

"Come on, Scully, help me out here," he pleaded, even as he continued to sponge her down. "You know I can't do this on my own."

A sudden scraping sound caused his heart to leap in his throat. Looking over he realized that there was another room off of this one, besides the bathroom. With a quick glance back at Scully, he cautiously went to investigate.

He found himself in another room, also without windows. He caught sight of a switch and immediately flicked it on. The room held a small dining table, two chairs and a couch. The only way out was a heavy steel door, with a sliding food carrier. That was what he'd heard: a tray with two plates of food and a thermos had been pushed in.

Mulder took the tray off and got as close as he could to the opening. "Hey! Hey, is anybody out there? Hey, we need help! She's sick!" Mulder stopped yelling for a moment. He didn't know if anyone out there knew that he'd used Scully's name, but decided not to risk it. "My wife is sick!" He hollered. "She needs a doctor!"

When no one returned after several minutes, Mulder gave up. Picking up the tray of food, he stepped into the bedroom, and proceeded to almost drop it when he saw that Scully was awake.

"Wife?" She mouthed silently, both eyebrows up.

For a minute, Mulder was torn between relief that Scully had regained consciousness and seemed okay, total embarrassment at having been overheard referring to her as his wife and fear that he was about to spill the food.

Scully bit her lip in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing aloud at the look on her partner's face as he

juggled the tray. She just couldn't help it since the expression was so comical.

"Very funny," Mulder whispered, trying to regain his dignity. He placed the tray down on the nearest table without further mishap, then sat down on the bed next to her.

"Nice of you to join me," he quipped. "I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all day."

"What day is it?" Scully asked worriedly.

Mulder glanced down at his watch, startled that he hadn't checked before. "Saturday. 2:30. I think in the afternoon; there aren't any windows in this place."

Scully brought both her hands to her head; rubbing her temples and squeezing to try and relieve the shooting pains.

Mulder caught her pained expression. He reached out his hand and gently placed it on her forehead. Her skin was clammy and hot, but the fever didn't seem any higher than before. There was a thermos on the tray and he poured a glass, sniffing the contents carefully. Cautiously he took a small sip. Lemonade. Seemed okay. They'd have to chance it. "I'm hoping it's safe to drink. Do you want to try?"

Eagerly Scully nodded and tried to push herself further up in bed, and was dismayed that she could barely lift her head, much less her arms. Without a word, Mulder slid his arm under her and pulled her up, and then he scooted around so that she could lean against him. When the glass touched her lips, it was all she could do not to gulp down the entire contents of the glass of the tart liquid. Dimly she decided that she didn't care if it was tainted or not - it was too delicious and cool to ignore.

"Okay?" Mulder asked.

Scully nodded again, panting softly. "You should try some."

"I will. Why don't you have a little more, though?" Mulder returned the glass to her lips.

Scully didn't argue, and finished the glass then tried to catch her breath while Mulder poured a glassful for himself.

"I guess that we need to talk." Mulder said when he was done.

Scully agreed and pulled herself forward slightly. It seemed to help her breathing and the dreadful ache in her chest.

"But before we talk about where we are and why we're here," Mulder said, "I'm going to go over every square inch of this place and see if I can see any listening devices. While I do that, you just lie there and rest. No arguments."

Scully sighed in resignation and watched him work; efficiently and meticulously. When he was done, he returned to her side and sat down, pronouncing the room bug free as far as he could tell.

Mulder took a hold of Scully's left arm and showed her where the needle had been inserted. "We were given some kind of drug by our captors."

Scully stared up at him, horror contorting her features. "Oh God, it must have been after we were knocked out in the fight."

Mulder was pleased that she remembered that. He didn't want to add "head injury" to the list of things to worry about. "Yeah, probably. But I don't think that's the reason you're burning up with fever and having trouble breathing, is it?" He tried without success to keep the dread out of his voice.

Scully licked her lips and opened her mouth to answer when they heard the scraping of the sliding food carrier in the other room.

Instantly Mulder was on his feet and out the door. He stared at the contents of the carrier in complete surprise. A bottle of Motrin. Dumbstruck, he picked it up and returned to the bedroom. Scully was sitting straight up in bed, her eyes wide.

"What is it?" She asked weakly.

Hearing the effort in her voice, he quickly reassured her. "I guess that somebody heard me." He showed her the bottle and opened it up. Pouring several tablets into his hand, he let her examine them.

Scully sighed. "I think that they're really Motrin."

"So, will that help?" Mulder asked hopefully.

Relief lit up her face and she grinned. "Yep, just what the doctor ordered."

Mulder poured out the last of the lemonade and Scully swallowed three of the pills, feeling optimistic for the first time since waking up.

Mulder silently took the glass from Scully's hands. The fact that they trembled slightly did not go unnoticed and he stared closely at his partner lying so very still, her face pale and drawn with pain, barely able to keep her eyes open and it made him want to cry.

"Mulder," Scully said quietly, finally breaking the tense silence. "Please don't look at me like that." She touched his face, wanting to smooth away the deep unhappy creases in his forehead.

Mulder winced at his transparency. "Sorry, Scully." When he felt her hand clasp his, he tightened his grasp in response. For just a moment, he let his thumb caress the top of her hand, marveling at how silky soft the skin was.

Scully hated to spoil the moment, but Mulder had to be told the truth. There was no way that she could deny or downplay her condition and any plans that they made would have to be made with that fact in mind. She swallowed hard, then looked up at him and forced herself to speak.

"Mulder, I believe I have pericarditis." Scully regretted the bluntness, but didn't know how to tell him any other way.

"What!" He was not prepared for such an admission and while he wasn't exactly sure what pericarditis was, it sure didn't sound promising. He had just about convinced himself that Scully just had a bad case of the flu. His body tensed instinctively and realizing that he was close to crushing Scully's hand, he fought down his wave of panic and eased up on his grip.

Scully took a deep breath, regretting it instantly. "It's an inflammation of the sac that encapsulates the heart.

At first I thought it was just the muscles in my chest being sore after...after..." she stumbled and could not say it. She looked up at Mulder helplessly.

(After Naciemento nearly ripped out your heart,) Mulder silently filled in and nodded his understanding.

Scully went on. "But the fever and the shortness of breath tell me differently."

Mulder simply stared at her, feeling like an abyss had opened up beneath him. He shuddered and closed his eyes, wanting to hide his dismay. "What can I do?" He asked. The sensation of his own heart being crushed was nearly overwhelming.

"Well, the Motrin is actually a good thing and it will help the fever and pain since it's an anti-inflammatory drug." She paused to catch her breath, wincing in obvious discomfort. "Also, I need to keep my pulse as low as possible in order to prevent the sac from filling up any faster than it already is."

"In other words, you should just lie there, right?" Mulder asked, clinging to humor in hopes of conquering his fear. His eyes flashed mischievously. "Does that mean that I get to wait on you hand and foot?"

Scully's lips quirked. She knew exactly what Mulder was thinking, as always. "Yes, yes it does." Catching the comical leer on his face, she added, "But I wouldn't get too happy about that."

"Why not?" Mulder said plaintively. "Come on Scully, you said it yourself: keep your heart rate down. I can do everything for you and you don't have to lift a finger."

There went that eyebrow. "Everything, Mulder?"

Mulder leaned in close. "Everything, Scully," he whispered seductively at her ear.

"Oh, that will help my heart rate." Scully said, managing a smile that lifted Mulder's spirits.

Scully's cheeks had flushed a bright red that Mulder knew was only partially due to fever. Contrite, he backed off. "I'm sorry, Scully. You relax, I'll behave. What else?"

Scully gazed up at him. "This is going to be awkward," she said as a self-conscious smile tugging at her lips.

Mulder's brow furrowed. "What is?"

"I love you. I've loved you for so very long, now," she said, her voice soft, almost shy, her eyes downcast.

Still holding her hand, Mulder pulled it to his lips. "I love you, too."

"This isn't exactly how I planned it." Scully stated ruefully.

Mulder was really curious now. (Planned? It? What 'it'?) Suddenly it hit him. (Whoa - it being the next stage of their relationship? Just how long - )

"Mulder, don't look at me like that. It's not what you think."

"And just what is it that I'm thinking?"

"Mulder," she groaned softly. "You're not making this easy for me."

Refusing to let go of her hand, he raised his other, palm up and shrugged his shoulders. "Help me out here, Scully. I think I'm really lost."

Scully sighed. All she wanted was to lie back and rest, but this was too important. Ignoring the throbbing in her head, she tried to make Mulder understand. "No matter how we tell ourselves otherwise; our relationship - is - going to change. Of course, I believe it is for the better," she quickly added.

Mulder grinned, but remained silent, holding Scully's hand like a lifeline, caressing it with his thumb.

"This transformation will take time, though, at least for me. Just because we've seen each other naked, doesn't mean I'm instantly going to feel comfortable undressing in front of you." Again, Scully regretted her bluntness, but she wasn't strong enough to keep up this conversation much longer and she desperately needed Mulder's understanding. "It's the little, day to day things outside of work that will take some getting used to also. Except when we went undercover at the Falls of Arcadia, there was always a comfort zone mandated by our job. Professionalism."

"Oh, is that what that green face goo you wore was - a comfort zone?" Mulder teased.

"In a way, yes. But I do use that mask." Scully retorted good-naturedly. "Just not to sleep in."

Mulder laughed, but then grew quiet, contemplating what his partner had said and acknowledging the validity. She was right, of course. It wouldn't be right to rush through this.

"Just be patient with me, Mulder," she whispered.

"Always," he vowed. "Now, why don't you get some sleep? I think we've done enough talking and you're exhausted."

Scully nodded.

"I'm just going to put this tray in the other room," he told her as he put the thermos on the tray and carried everything out to the other room except for two oranges that he placed on the bedside table.

Scully leaned back, relieved that the Motrin had kicked in, reducing her temperature to a more tolerable level. The dreadful ache in her chest had also diminished somewhat. As tired as she was though, sleep threatened to elude her in light of their imprisonment.

Worse, was the complete helplessness that enveloped her like a net. She couldn't escape; hell, she couldn't even fight back in this condition and that scared her as much as angered her. She was a trained FBI agent and right now she was completely dependent on her partner. The lack of control was terrifying.

They seemed to be in a holding pattern for now, though; left alone by their captors. She knew that she should use this time to try and regain her strength, to be ready in case an escape opportunity presented itself. But she was afraid. She couldn't hide it from herself, no matter how hard she tried. She was afraid.

Suddenly, she remembered her drive down to the Dickerson's and the promise she had made to herself. She was not going to fight IT anymore. Was this part of IT? Maybe it was.

Maybe she needed to stop fighting Mulder's help as well as his love. Let go and trust that Mulder would take care of her, just as she would take care of Mulder if their positions were reversed. She wouldn't think less of Mulder if he were the one who was sick. She let herself believe that the opposite was true, also.

(No more fighting,) she admonished herself. (Save your strength for more important matters.) She sighed quietly.

Mulder finished checking the heavy steel door, unable to see any way out. He was trying to give Scully some time to go to sleep and as such, was surprised to find her still awake upon his return. He moved to sit back down beside her and tenderly stroked her damp cheek.

"Hey, why haven't you gone to sleep yet?" he asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Scully nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed all over again by her love for this man as she reveled in his touch. She couldn't change instantly, but she was now ready to take a step. She found her voice at last. "Would - would you lie down with me?" she asked demurely.

Mulder paused a beat before replying. "Scully - are you coming on to me?" he asked hopefully, a grin lighting up his face.

"Yes, yes I am," she replied, happy that he didn't think she was asking for help, despite her earlier thoughts.

Mulder leaned in to kiss her. He'd let her think that he misunderstood her request. He knew all too well how she abhorred showing any signs of weakness and the fact that she trusted him to ask for comfort, in her own roundabout way, caused his heart to melt. It would take time, he knew, for her to feel totally at ease in this new aspect of their relationship. And he was determined to give her all the time she needed. He waited for her to get comfortable, and then carefully situated himself alongside her as she pressed against his body.

Lovingly, he draped one arm around her and felt her gradually relax until she finally slipped off to sleep, comforted by his strength and the trust she knew she could place in him. He could tell that her rate of breathing was faster than normal and she was still febrile, but at least she seemed a little more comfortable and for that he was grateful.

Chapter 12

Mulder wasn't aware that he'd even gone to sleep until something jerked him awake. He felt disoriented in the strange room, the only light coming from the bathroom, the door partially ajar. A glance at his watch showed it was now 9:45, Saturday night, he assumed. He heard movement in the bathroom, and water running - Scully. Realizing that he hadn't felt her get out of bed didn't upset him nearly as much as the fact that she'd gotten up at all. Then he chastised himself: it's just the bathroom. It's not like she went for a run and besides, there's nothing you could do for her in there.

(Well, if she was taking a bath there was,) he mused, but that was obviously not the case. It sounded more like she was brushing her teeth, right now. But how long had she been in there?

He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp; thinking that he really should have eaten earlier. He picked up one of the oranges he'd saved and began peeling it when Scully came to the doorway.

Feeling her eyes on him, Mulder looked up to see her smiling sweetly over at him.

"Hungry, Mulder?" she asked.

"Yeah." He stared at her closely and saw the very second that the pain hit her. He heard her quietly gasp as her hands clutched at her chest and the color drained from her face and without a word, he vaulted from the bed. Scully's eyes closed as she crumpled soundlessly right into Mulder's open arms, instinctively knowing without a doubt that he'd be there to catch her.

Frantic, he lifted her and clutching her closely, carried her back to the bed. "Scully?" His eyes searched her face, willing her to be all right.

Scully, her face ashen, finally opened her eyes. "Mulder -I -" She couldn't get the words out.

"Sssshhh - don't try and talk," he admonished her gently. He went to the bathroom to soak the washrag and placed it on her forehead, smoothing her hair back.

"It's getting worse," she said breathlessly.

Mulder grunted softly. Like he couldn't tell. "So, does that mean that you won't get up again without my help?" He was smiling to temper the reproach in his voice.

Guilt clouded her features. "I'm sorry," she whispered, stricken. "It was only the bathroom."

"I know. I'm not mad. I'd have a hard time too, if I was in your shoes, you know." He handed her the orange slices. "Here, take these. Can I get you some of the Motrin?"

"How long has it been?" Her voice trembled slightly.

"Over six hours."

Scully nodded weakly.

Mulder went to the living room to get the pills and saw to his relief that another tray had been delivered. It was a little disconcerting, though. He wasn't entirely convinced that they weren't being watched somehow.

Setting the tray down, he unwrapped one of the sandwiches and handed half to Scully. She accepted it, knowing that she couldn't keep taking Motrin on an empty stomach without causing more problems. She didn't think that she could handle any more problems at this point but she had still had to literally force down each bite.

Mulder checked the refilled thermos and found apple juice. He poured a glass for each of them and handed Scully three Motrin.

She ate slowly, but he was pleased to see her eat, even though he could tell that she wasn't really hungry. She only managed half of the sandwich but took both oranges as he refilled her glass.

"Enough, Mulder," Scully announced finally. "I can't handle another bite."

"No problem. Has the medicine started working yet?"

"Yeah," she rubbed her chest wall absently. "How many tablets are left?"

"Twenty-seven," he replied after counting. "Plenty."

Scully nodded. "Every six hours."

She watched as Mulder cleaned up after their meal and felt totally helpless. "Mulder, I'm getting a little sick of just lying in this bed. Can we go sit in the other room and maybe talk a little?"

"Sure, Scully. On one condition." he stated matter of factly.

She gave him the LOOK and he prepared himself for battle.

"You're going to have to let me carry you out there. We can't afford another episode like you just had."

Scully's eyes widened in astonishment, but Mulder didn't give her a chance to speak. "You know that. Tell me you know that."

The seconds ticked silently by until she finally huffed, her shoulders sagged in resignation. This is turning out to be a hell of a lot more difficult than she originally thought it'd be.

Mulder leaned in. "You know, Scully, if being in my arms bothers you that much..." he let the words fall away in mock despair.

Scully jerked her gaze up to his face. "That's not it and I - know - that you know it."

"So, you - do - want to be in my arms." He let his face light up.

"Well - yes - but - I - I mean -" Scully was floundering.

Mulder smiled smugly at Scully's inability to form a complete sentence. (A flustered Scully was really quite endearing,) he noted with pleasure.

"Mulder," she took a calming breath and couldn't help but smile. "I - told - you that this was going to be awkward."

"I know, Scully. I do. Now here," Gently he reached beneath her and as he stood, she automatically wrapped her arms around his neck.

He took two steps towards the other room before stopping. "Well?"

Scully's brow furrowed. "Well, what?"

"Well, how is it? Not too bad?"

He looked at her so seriously that she had to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. She then leaned her head close to his ear and whispered. "I really think that I could get used to this." She kissed his cheek.

Mulder hugged her. "Good, 'cause that's my plan."

Scully positively beamed.

Chapter 13

Mulder stepped into the living room and gently set Scully on the couch. "Before you get too comfortable, let me go get a pillow."

Scully smiled up at him lovingly, berating herself for every time she had spurned Mulder's "hovering" in the past.

When he returned, he spread the blanket over her and placed the pillow behind her back. She scooted around so that her feet were on the couch, tucking her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.

Mulder settled on the opposite end and turned sideways also so that they were facing each other. He marveled at how very small she looked, huddled over with the blanket pulled closely around her.

"I guess that we should review the facts as we know them," he began.

Scully looked at him expectantly, encouraging him with her eyes to do the talking. He got the message and continued.

"Friday night, you and I are taken by two men who think that we're Dr. and Mrs. Theodore Dickerson, who, by the way, have just left town suddenly and according to Mrs. Dickerson, unexpectedly."

"Right."

Mulder went on. "Since being brought here, no one has spoken to us, but we've been fed and whether they heard me yelling or what, know that you're sick and brought Motrin. A medication that has helped some."

Scully nodded.

Mulder huffed softly, forcing himself to remain calm and focused. "Okay, what do we know about the Dickersons?"

Scully took a breath to collect her thoughts. "Mom and Nancy have been best friends since the fifth grade and she's Bill's godmother."

Mulder bit back the groan. (Not good,) he thought briefly. (Please don't let Mrs. Scully get hurt anymore by this.)

Scully went on, unaware of Mulder's dismay. "Nancy's first husband died about 10 years ago and Nancy was absolutely devastated; it just about killed her. Mom helped her through it, and encouraged Nancy to get out. Nancy used the fortune her husband left her and became an active philanthropist, which is how she met Ted. They married very quickly and suddenly she is funding his research and nothing else."

"Wait - when did she marry Ted?" Mulder broke in.

Scully paused to think. "Well, I know that I missed the wedding, but why - ?" She struggled to trigger her memory until at last it came to her.

Her face fell.

"What is it, Scully?" Mulder leaned forward in concern.

"She got married while I was - when I was - taken..."

Mulder looked at her in sympathy. "Sorry, Scully."

"It's okay," she said quietly. "Really."

Mulder tried to steer the conversation away from that time period. "Did you ever meet Ted?"

Scully shook her head, her expression darkened. "According to Mom, after the wedding they became recluses. She was a little suspicious that Ted used Nancy just for her money to fund his research, but she didn't know what the research was; just that he's a geneticist."

Mulder was all ears. "Scully, before I left my place Friday, I got a call from Byers. He was all excited about a scientific breakthrough on the God Module made by Dr. Theodore Dickerson."

"What!" she exclaimed incredulously. "Are you sure it's the same man?"

"I don't know for sure." Mulder stated. "Byers gave me an address and phone number for his lab in New Jersey."

Scully slumped back. "Then it's probably the same person." She told him morosely. "What does all this mean?"

"Scully, I'm concerned by the fact that this guy does research on the God Module, Gibson Praise is still missing and now a breakthrough is made but the scientist takes off with his wife while someone who obviously knows of his work is after him."

Scully was shocked into silence, her eyes impossibly wide as she contemplated the unimaginable. "Gibson," she breathed, biting back tears of horror. "Please - no."

"What if the Consortium is after Dr. Dickerson?" Mulder mused. "How long before they realize that they got the wrong person? And then what? And we don't know for sure if this Dr. Dickerson is really a good guy or some mad scientist."

"Oh God, Mulder, what are we going to do?" Scully asked fearfully.

Mulder didn't have a good answer at this point.

Chapter 14

By Saturday night, Walter Skinner thought that he had accumulated all the pieces of the puzzle. (Almost all,) he amended. The most important one of all was still eluding him: the location of Agents Mulder and Scully.

The first piece had been a call from a sheriff who had been relayed through a FBI field office. The sheriff told him that construction workers who were doing renovations on the house had called him out to the home of Dr. Theodore Dickerson.

"The guys showed up for work this morning and when no one answered the door, they got concerned - especially with two cars in the driveway. They said that the front door was unlocked and there had been some kind of struggle in the living room. That's when they called me in. My men are going over the place, but haven't come up with anything except a burned dinner in the oven - which was still on by the way. It's a damn miracle that the house didn't burn down. Anyway, when I got ID back on the cars, I got on the phone to the FBI and they transferred me to you."

Skinner had thanked him and promised to send agents out to help investigate. After assigning agents to the case, he had reluctantly taken the next step and called Maggie Scully.

"Oh God," Maggie said softly, recognizing his voice and his tone.

Skinner admired her strength as she told him why Dana had been at the Dickerson's without falling to pieces. He didn't have children of his own and couldn't begin to imagine being a parent to Scully, or Mulder for that matter, after everything those two had been through. It was hard enough being their superior. And friend? Sometimes he wondered if he really was considered their friend.

"I promise you, Mrs. Scully, I'm doing everything in my power to locate them."

"I know you are," she said softly, biting back tears. "Please, keep me informed of any progress."

"I will." Skinner stared at the wall, fist tightly around the phone he had just hung up. Maybe he - did - know what it was like.

The phone rang, jolting him from his musings. "Skinner."

"Director Skinner, you don't know me, but I'm a friend of Fox Mulder."

"What can I do for you?" Skinner's tone grew wary.

"I understand that Agents Mulder and Scully are missing and I have some information that I hope will help find them."

(Who - is - this guy?) Skinner thought. "What kind of information?"

"Are you aware that Dr. Theodore Dickerson is a scientist who has been studying the God Module? I assume that you know what that is."

Skinner felt his mouth go dry. "Of course I do," he snapped.

The caller went on, unperturbed. "Dr. Dickerson has made some kind of scientific breakthrough, the specifics of which I have as yet been unable to ascertain. I gave this information to Mulder, knowing of his interest. I hope that by telling you, it will help to locate him."

"Listen - how did you get this information -"

The caller hung up on him.

Skinner immediately started making calls.

Byers carefully wiped down the phone booth. If the call was traced, he didn't want to leave any sign that he'd ever been there. He headed back home, wondering what Langly and Frohike would do if they knew he had enlisted Skinner's help to locate Mulder and Scully.

Chapter 15

Saturday evening in the Main House, Cap lay dozing on the couch, a half-empty bottle of scotch an arm's length away, and an empty glass on the floor beside it. The TV had been left on with the sound turned all the way down.

Sarge burst in, a thin sheen of perspiration covering his face, and ran straight to the couch. Roughly he shook Cap awake.

"Cap - Cap wake up!"

"Huh - wha -" Cap grunted incoherently as he struggled to sit up and gather his wits about him. The liquor, however, had managed to muddle his brain, coat his mouth and glue his eyes shut quite effectively. "Take it easy, man. What's the hell's the matter with you?"

"Cap - come on - wake up. The Boss just pulled into the compound." Sarge warned urgently.

That was the splash of cold water that Cap needed to get going. Like a flash, he was on his feet, carefully scooting the bottle and glass under the couch. He went to the window and watched the Ford Explorer move slowly past the Main House and go directly to the Visitors' Quarters. Cap's expression immediately darkened.

"Take a breather, Sarge," he told him. He watched the Boss exit the vehicle. "Off to see Dani first," he muttered bitterly.

Sarge stepped up and looked over Cap's shoulder.

"Got to make sure ol' Cap and Sarge didn't screw up and hurt the good doc." Cap continued to curse under his breath.

"Should we wait here?" Sarge asked hesitantly. When Cap was in this kind of mood, anything could set him off.

"Yeah. Dani can take care of the Boss." Cap huffed before returning to the couch. He grabbed the remote, searching until he found a baseball game and turned up the volume. He resisted the urge to retrieve the scotch. He didn't have a death wish, after all.

Sarge looked over uneasily, unsure what to do. Finally he decided to join Cap and watch the game.

Meanwhile, Dani was standing at the door to greet the Boss, extending the ever-present pad and pen. The Boss took them without looking and went directly to the bank of monitors that lined one wall. Each of the rooms in VQ had a tiny camera but only one was currently in use and that was the one the Boss focused on.

The Boss had to keep from screaming aloud.

(The fools! Idiots!) Vile epithets poured from lips thin with rage.

Dani stood watching, without expression as the Boss' rage filled the room. She watched a clenched fist pound the console and did not blink.

The Boss looked over at Dani, cheeks red, eyes blazing then began writing. The pen flew across the paper.

Dani kept her face neutral as she watched the Boss' lips moving and when the note was completed, the Boss simply stormed out.

Dani smiled. Cap and Sarge had made their final mistake and it would ultimately turn out to be fatal for them. She picked up the note.

Those 2 aren't the Dickersons.

Dani's smile broadened. She, of course, was aware of that little tidbit of information.

Stay here and await further instructions.

Dani sat down again in front of the monitor. She was aware now of what the Boss had planned for Mulder and Scully. The question was what to do about it. She stared at the FBI agents in the living room. Mulder had positioned himself behind Scully and had enveloped her in his arms.

Dani sighed in relief. She had been worried earlier, before the Boss' arrival that Mulder would hurt himself as he had finally vented his rage at their captivity, nearly demolishing the rooms looking for an escape. Scully had shown remarkable restraint as she watched, her face unknowingly mirroring Dani's concerned countenance. When Mulder had at last admitted defeat, she had simply held out her hand, beckoning him over.

Dani had watched as Mulder let his shoulders slump, dejected and fatigued and trying to catch his breath. He had taken Scully's hand, kissed it, and then went to take a quick shower. Hating that he'd had to put on the same clothes he'd been wearing before was evident to Dani by the expression of distaste on his face. He'd then joined Scully on the couch and that tableau had been what had set the Boss into a rage.

Dani settled down to wait.

Cap and Sarge both started violently when they heard the front door slam shut. They barely had time to jump to their feet and turn off the TV before the Boss stormed in.

Neither one of them was prepared for the fury that emanated from the Boss like heat from the sun.

Sarge shrank back in reflex when the Boss' eyes found him and locked on. "Go to VQ, pump in the gas, knock them both out and put the woman in a different room." The order was spoken with a voice so low, so quiet, and so dangerous that Sarge actually shuddered and felt the blood drain from his face.

The Boss' rage-filled eyes transfixed him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. When he continued to just stand there, the Boss instantly and smoothly whipped out a Glock and pointed it at his head.

"Now!"

At the bark, Sarge took off like a shot, without looking back, expecting to feel the bullet any second.

(Something's wrong!) His terrified mind kept repeating and he began to wonder if he shouldn't just take off after doing what the Boss wanted. He was pretty sure at this point that no bonus money was forthcoming and he wasn't prepared to die. He made it to the supply room and got the tank and tubing and went to work.

Chapter 16

The Boss waited until Sarge was gone before taking a deep breath and turning to Cap and pointed the Glock at him with a steady hand. Dark eyes glared menacingly at Cap's shocked face and he instinctively raised his hands in a defensive posture, struggling mightily to understand what was going on. (What had gone wrong?)

"Is - is the doc okay?" he asked fearfully and hating that he showed fear.

"I wouldn't know," the Boss replied with a voice that dripped venom.

Cap shook his head. This wasn't right. "I don't understand. Didn't you just go to VQ?"

(Wrong thing to say,) his brain informed him when the Boss snapped and he found himself stumbling backwards. The Boss had pushed him with a strength augmented by pure rage and Cap fell over an end table, landing with a bone-jarring thud. He grunted in pain and immediately tasted blood after biting his tongue. Wincing, he turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva. When he turned back to the Boss, he saw that the Glock was now inches from his face.

"You worthless piece of shit." the Boss hissed furiously. "You two jerks did not capture Dr. Dickerson!"

"What!" It was the only word he could get out, his tongue rapidly swelling and interfering with his speech.

The Boss kicked out, connecting with Cap's thigh. The terrified man moaned and grabbed his leg.

"You heard me. You managed to capture two FBI agents!"

"What?" Cap repeated stupidly, shaking his head and trying to get some kind of handle on his pain and confusion. (That couldn't be right. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen.) He was supposed to be home free. What had gone wrong?

"Next time, I suggest that you get pictures instead of just addresses, you asshole!" The icy disdain in the voice melted into a blood-curdling sneer. "Oh - but wait. There won't - be - a next time, now will there?"

Cap's eyes widened in mortal fear.

They were still open when the bullets entered his brain.

Death was instant. His brain was gone. The only mercy the Boss allowed.

The Boss went to the window to watch for Sarge. Now, all that was left was to wait for the man to separate Mulder and Scully. This could still work out. The other team members thankfully were continuing to search for Dr. Dickerson and with Mulder here, plans could be stepped up. Scully was a mere annoyance that was about to be eliminated.

A feral smile touched the Boss' lips. Fox Mulder would never know what hit him.

Chapter 17

Dani activated the monitor to the room adjacent to Mulder and Scully's, watching Sarge set up his equipment. He had already closed the vents and soon he was piping in the gas that would ensure the prisoners' cooperation. He waited a full half-hour before turning of the gas, donning a gas mask and entering the room, going directly to the couch.

He stood over the two people he had believed would be his salvation and the answer to all his prayers and wondered, not for the first time, what had gone so wrong. With a shake of his head, he went to work. (I got to quit screwing around and just get the hell out of here,) he reminded himself. No time for recriminations now.

Despite their unconscious state, Sarge moved with stealth, noting the man's protectiveness in his embrace. Very slowly, he moved first one, then the other of Mulder's arms away from Scully's torso. Mulder's breathing remained quiet and he did not stir at all. Not even when Sarge slid his arms under Scully's knees and shoulders and lifted her up. Scully, too, remained oblivious as she was taken away from her partner while Dani watched it all and made final plans of her own.

Sarge placed Scully in a cell two doors down from Mulder, unaware that Dani was watching his every move. He made sure that Scully's pulse and breathing was steady and that the door was securely locked before going to double-check on Mulder. Breathing a sigh of relief, he quickly ran to his own quarters

Dani peeked out her window and caught sight of the Boss, standing on the second story balcony of the Main House. She went back to the monitors in time to see Sarge driving off in the unmarked ambulance, the only other vehicle besides the Boss' Explorer. Dani was not surprised that the Boss let him go. Sarge was not a real danger to the Boss' operation and he would be easy to track down. Dani had no doubt that the Sarge was as good as dead. All it would take was one phone call.

Chapter 18

Even before he opened his eyes, Mulder knew that something was different - wrong. Terribly wrong. Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing regular, he lay very still and tried to figure out what it was. First of all, his head seemed a little fuzzy, he felt a little hungover and like he hadn't eaten in days. As far as he could tell, he was still on the couch but Scully had definitely moved. He distinctly remembered that she had been lying alongside him and now she seemed to be sitting on the floor, resting her head on his chest.

(Maybe that's it.) He reassured himself. (She had gotten up without waking him again and when she returned had sat on the floor instead of the couch.)

His breath caught in his throat. (No. That wasn't possible. Dana Scully wasn't tall enough to pull that move off.)

His eyes flew open and he found himself staring at black hair fanned out across his shirt.

"Shit!" he cried out in disgust, scrambling back off the couch with as much gusto as if he'd found a rattlesnake coiled up on top of him.

The owner of the black hair looked up at him.

And smiled.

"Fox."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 19

"Diana?" Mulder stared at her in utter shock and nearly choked. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

Diana Fowley smiled up at him indulgently. "Well I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up." She yawned, discreetly covering her mouth. "Sorry, I must have dozed off."

Where's Scully?" Mulder demanded, struggling to keep his temper under control as he looked around for his partner.

Fowley look up at him with an expression of surprise. "Scully's here, too?"

Mulder reached down and grabbed her arm. Ignoring Fowley's look of wonder, he roughly jerked her to her feet. "Don't play dumb with me, Diana, it doesn't suit you at all. Now where is she?" he barked.

"Fox, please. Settle down" she commanded. "I don't know what you're talking about." She met his gaze head on.

Mulder's eyes bored through her, desperately struggling to comprehend. He forced himself to stay calm. He couldn't show his anger, his rage. It was obviously too risky at this point. Scully. That was his priority. He had to focus.

"Fine. Then let's start with what you do know. Where have you been and what are you doing here now?" He asked, careful to keep his tone low.

Fowley reached up and pried her arm out of Mulder's grip. "For your information, I've been on special assignment - deep undercover - looking for Gibson."

Mulder clenched his jaw and forced himself not to react.

"I'm here because I got a lead," she continued, "but you're all I've found so far."

"Where is 'here', might I ask?" Mulder folded his arms and kept his voice low and controlled.

"A compound on a tiny island, off the Virginia coast. What are you doing here, Fox?" Fowley queried.

Mulder had his answer ready. "I don't know. Scully and I were attacked, drugged and brought here by two men. No one's spoken to us since we got here on Friday night." he answered smoothly conveniently eliminating the fact that they'd been misidentified as Dr. and Mrs. Dickerson.

Fowley's brow furrowed. "Well, right now it's Sunday afternoon, almost 3:00."

Mulder felt his gut twist. The last thing that he remembered was Saturday night, around 11:00. (Where was

Scully? How long had she been gone?) He headed for the door.

"Fox, where are you going?" Fowley called out as she hurried after him.

"Where the hell do you think - to find Scully." Mulder reached for the doorknob but Fowley darted around in front of him and blocked his way.

"Fox - no!" She looked into his eyes, pleading with him.

"What do you mean - 'no'? I've got to find her." He moved to push her aside, but Fowley placed both hands on his shoulders.

"It's too late, Fox." she said quietly but firmly.

"What do you mean it's too late? What in the hell are you talking about? You just got finished telling me that you didn't know that she was here. So which one is it Diana?" He was almost shouting and he had to restrain himself as the urge to reach out and throttle her nearly overwhelmed him.

"She's dead, Fox. They killed her while she was trying to escape."

Mulder simply stared at her in dumbfounded horror and disbelief. The news hit him like a sucker punch, stealing his voice. His heart was out of control, banging loudly in his chest. "No," he whispered brokenly.

Fowley lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Fox. I - I - should have told you right away, but I just couldn't - I -" She shook her head.

"I don't believe you," Mulder said in a strangled voice that he barely recognized as his own. "Why - should - I believe you?"

Fowley actually had the nerve to look offended. "Believe what you want to, Fox. But it would be wise for you - to - believe me." She ran her hands up and down his arms. "Fox, it's over. It's all over. Come back with me." She pleaded. "There's nothing to hold you back now. Come with me and together we'll find everything that you've been looking for."

Mulder's head was spinning. (Cancerman. CGB Spender had wanted me to join him. The cigarette smoking man had made me the very same offer. That's it. I'm out of here.) Without hesitation he again reached out for the door, but Fowley was quicker. With one smooth move, she grabbed Mulder's arm and jerked him back, all the while reaching for her Glock that she'd kept hidden under her sweater.

Suddenly, Mulder found himself looking down the barrel in to Fowley's eyes, which had become cold and unforgiving.

It was a look that Mulder had never seen on her face before and he definitely wasn't prepared to see it now. He thought about wrestling her for the gun, but dismissed the notion out of hand. She was a trained FBI agent and as she stood before him, she seemed to be looking for an excuse to shoot. (But would she - really - shoot me?)

Fowley read the thought in his eyes. "Don't think for one second that I won't do it, Fox. Don't ever doubt that. You have a choice to make. You can do this the easy way or you can die. Right here, and right now."

Mulder's mouth dropped. When? When had she become the unspeakable enemy? The very worst of THEM? He searched desperately for the tiniest hint of the person he'd known and trusted. And failed.

Chapter 20

Scully moaned softly as consciousness returned to her bringing with it awareness and with awareness came pain. She moaned again and weakly brought her hand up to her face, rubbing her eyes in an effort to get them open. Distantly she realized that her fever had returned also, with a vengeance, but she pushed that aside for now.

(One thing at a time,) she thought as she forced her eyes open. Squinting against the glare of the bathroom light, she looked over, expecting to see Mulder stretched out beside her.

The fact that he was nowhere in sight and that she was in bed as opposed to the couch that she remembered, gave her the strength that she needed to pull herself to a sitting position. It felt as though she was moving through quicksand and as soon as she was upright, she wished that she had just kept flat.

She managed to call out once for Mulder, her voice thin and hoarse, when an avalanche of

dizziness and nausea cut off her second cry. She clamped a hand to her mouth as she scrambled off the bed and staggered drunkenly towards the bathroom. The floor seemed to slide out from under her feet and she felt herself falling. Grabbing nothing but air, she collapsed, a burning, tearing pain flashed throughout her entire body, even setting her lungs on fire. Weak, dizzy, and drenched with sweat, she lay facedown, unable to move and barely able to breathe. The light quickly dimmed and then there was nothing.

Chapter 21

Dani slipped deeper into the shadows, escaping the Boss' notice for now. She glanced down at her watch: almost 2:00. She knew that she didn't have much time as she watched the Boss enter Mulder's room.

(The end is coming,) she thought with satisfaction.

She waited a couple of minutes more, and then raced to Scully's room. She found the agent lying face down on the floor, unmoving. Gently she turned Scully over and was relieved to find that she was conscious but too weak to get up on her own.

"Mulder," Scully murmured, her vision blurred. She blinked several times and tried to focus on the face above her.

"Not Mulder. My name's Danielle. I'm here to help. Come on; let's get you to the bed."

Scully struggled to comprehend. "Where's Mulder?"

Dani didn't answer. "Come on, Agent Scully," she urged as she pulled Scully up. Scully groaned, the sudden movement renewing the throbbing in her head. Dani guided Scully back to the bed. Scully struggled to take the necessary steps even as her lips trembled with the effort and her head continued to pound mercilessly. Dani got her settled in a reclining position then hurried to the bathroom and filled a glass with water. She returned to find Scully staring at her, more lucid, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Who are you? Where's Mulder?"

Dani could see the effort it was costing her to keep her voice steady in an attempt to appear in control.

"I'm here to help you," she repeated as she placed three Motrin tablets in Scully's hand. "Quickly, Agent Scully so that they can start to work."

Scully eyed them suspiciously before swallowing them, but it took a monstrous effort to keep them down. A cold wind seemed to have swept through her and she was shaking all over and her teeth kept chattering together, making even her jaws ache as she clenched them tight.

Dani watched her anxiously. "Agent Scully, I know that this is hard, but you've got to trust me. We've got to hurry. There isn't much time left. The Boss has rigged this entire place to blow and I've got to get to Agent

Mulder."

Scully struggled to pull herself up. "Where is Mulder?"

"He's still in the room that you started in, but I've got to get to him...he doesn't know what he's going up against."

"I'm going with you," Scully announced with grim determination, her voice strained.

Dani shook her head. "No - no you're not. I've got to get you to the escape tunnel. I'm the only one that's going to handle the Boss." She gave Scully the glass of water and encouraged her to drink some more.

"You've got to get down to the beach," she continued. "That's where the help is going to arrive. I couldn't risk bringing them up here." She took a breath. "I know you have loads of questions and doubts but there simply isn't any time."

"I'm not leaving Mulder." Scully insisted stubbornly.

Dani sighed. "Don't worry about Mulder. I intend for him to be right behind you. Look, I've taken care of you this far and I won't let anything happen now if I can help it. You're just going to have to trust me."

Scully fought to concentrate on what Dani was telling her as she continued to sip the cool water. The pain in her chest was making it difficult to breathe. "What -"

"Don't talk," Dani admonished her, "just rest a little bit longer."

Dani sat with her until 2:50. "Has the Motrin started working?"

Scully nodded once.

"Okay, let's go." Dani helped Scully to her feet, holding her securely around the waist as Scully wobbled on

unreliable legs. She looked completely out of it.

"You can do this, Agent Scully," Dani said with more confidence than she actually felt. "I know you can."

Scully bit her lip as she focused on each step, willing Dani's words to be true as she was led out into the corridor.

Chapter 22

Dani held a finger to her lips and Scully nodded in understanding. The two women walked quietly through the nearly empty corridor with Scully hanging on to Dani for dear life.

Scully kept her eyes on her feet, concentrating on each step, blindly letting Dani lead her, trusting her with

hers and Mulder's lives. Despite the Motrin, the dreadful ache in her chest had shot up into her jaw and down both arms. The pain was making it hard to breathe and even harder to think, but Scully resolutely pushed past it with a strength born on her love for Mulder. She was not going to die. Not here. Not when there was still so much unfinished business.

At the end of the corridor, they came to a room with a door that was different from the others.

"This leads to a tunnel that will take you out," Dani whispered. "It actually opens up on the cliff about fifty feet above the beach, but it's a fairly easy climb; lots of rocks and handholds."

Scully shook her head, panting with the effort. "I can't do it. Not without Mulder. I'm not leaving here without Mulder."

Dani gnawed on her lower lip and gave up. "Okay. Fine. Just wait right here. Don't move. I'll get Mulder and be right back."

Scully watched her leave, sliding down the wall to a sitting position and desperately fought back the darkness.

Chapter 23

Mulder opened his mouth to speak when the steel door silently swung open. Although the movement caught Fowley by surprise, she retained the presence of mind to keep her gun trained on him. Fowley glanced over and saw to her surprise that it was Dani. Then she did a double take. Dani had a gun pointed right at her head.

Mulder, despite his fear and anger was intrigued. "Who are you?"

"Don't bother, Fox," Fowley said coldly. "She's of no concern to you. Besides, she's deaf and dumb."

The young woman, who looked to be about twenty, took one step forward into the room. Her green eyes flashed. "Don't be too sure about that, Boss."

Now it was Fowley's turn to be shocked. Mulder almost laughed in spite of the circumstances at the look of comical surprise that Fowley was unable to mask. And still her gun never wavered.

"What's the matter, Boss - cat got your tongue?" Dani taunted.

Fowley's face morphed and the rage contorted her features into a gruesome sight. "You little lying bitch," she seethed. "All these years you let me think you were so traumatized by your father's death. How could you?"

"How's that for the pot calling the kettle black. You - you're the only 'bitch' in this room. Did you actually think that I wouldn't find out that you were part of it all? You killed my father as surely as if you'd pulled the trigger yourself and then tried to ease your conscience by taking care of the 'poor, grieving daughter'."

Dani's fury eclipsed Fowley's and Mulder could see that it was taking every ounce of restraint not to pull the trigger.

"Revenge - will - be mine." Dani announced triumphantly.

"Who was your father?" Mulder asked in an attempt to diffuse the situation with the calm of desperation. He thought that it was incredible that he could still think and function knowing that it could already be too late.

This stand off, however, was not getting him any closer to locating his partner.

Dani kept her gun trained on Fowley. "You knew him as Deep Throat."

"What?" Mulder couldn't have been more shocked than if she'd said that her father was one of the aliens.

"Look - enough of this." Fowley snapped.

Mulder, however, wanted so much more: he had never learned Deep Throat's real name or anything about him. What was Diana's part in all of this? There was so much information that this young woman could give him but Fowley never gave her the chance. In the blink of an eye, Fowley brought her Glock around and squeezed the trigger.

Dani took the lightning bolt point blank in her chest. She spun around so that she was lying face down across the threshold. She never made a sound as her own gun flew from her lifeless hand out into the hallway. She was dead before she hit the floor.

Mulder cried out and moved to go to her but Fowley stopped him. "Don't do it, Fox. It's over." She kept the Glock pointed at his own broken heart.

He froze. So this is how far she was willing to go. He hadn't been 100% sure before. He was now. He looked over at the body of the young woman and as he watched her blood seep out around her, he realized sadly that he didn't know her name either.

"How could you, Diana?" He asked mournfully. It struck him that maybe she hadn't been lying about Scully. (Then she might as well shoot me, too.) He again moved towards the door when two shots rang out almost simultaneously.

Mulder went down instantly as the bullet pierced his left side and the searing pain ripped a cry from his lips.

Rolling painfully onto his back, he reached down to probe his injury, keeping his eyes closed. He'd made the mistake in the past of seeing himself shot and had nearly passed out at the sight. (Through and through,) he realized sickly. The bullet had ripped through him right above his waist.

"Mulder." A thin whisper caught his attention.

(No! It couldn't be! Could it?)

His hazel eyes flew open. "Scully!" he cried out, an incredulous look on his face. (She's alive!) He thought joyfully, staring up at her as she knelt before him. His own pain took a backseat to his overwhelming relief.

Scully managed a small smile before turning serious. "Mulder, we have to get out of here. This place is rigged to explode," she said as she checked his injury.

Mulder looked over and saw Diana lying in a pool of her own blood several feet away. Mulder frowned. (How can that be?) He thought fuzzily, and then remembered that he'd heard two shots.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't faster," Scully said softly, keeping all emotions from her voice as she noticed the look on his face and misinterpreting its meaning.

"Don't be," Mulder told her firmly. "I'm just thankful that you were there. I'm the one who's sorry that you had

to do that." He looked up at her, struck by the deathly pallor of her face, her eyes dull with pain. (Enough. They'd figure this all out later. Time to get moving. Now.)

Chapter 24

Scully checked Mulder's pulse: steady and strong, a bit faster than usual. She reassessed his wound and saw that there was bruising all along his left flank following the path of the bullet as it had traveled beneath the skin. With a silent prayer that it had missed his kidney and spleen, she continued to hold pressure to the exit wound, which had seeped a thin trickle of blood.

"I'm okay, Scully," Mulder attempted to reassure her; "it just hurts like a bear." He grimaced as he pulled himself to a sitting position.

Scully, of course, could tell that it hurt a lot more than that. He was pale and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face.

"Do you know the way out of here?" he asked as he staggered to his feet. "Diana said that we're on an island."

Scully sat back on her heels. "Down the hall, to the left. There's a gray door. There's a tunnel that opens out on the cliff and the beach was about fifty feet below."

Mulder huffed in frustration. Scully was in no condition to go rock climbing and he certainly wasn't in the best shape right now either.

Scully read his thoughts easily. "We can do it, Mulder - together. Besides, we don't have much choice. I don't know how long we have left before this place self-destructs." She paused to catch her breath. "Help is coming, but it's going to the beach - away from the explosion."

Mulder nodded. "Right. Let me make sure that the coast is clear." He picked up the gun Scully had used to fell Diana and stepped cautiously out into the hall.

Scully found herself alone with the two dead women and shuddered. She would never have believed that Fowley was capable of this. It didn't matter what she thought of her before - this was unreal. And Danielle. She had basically given her life to help them.

She caught sight of Fowley's gun and wondered if she should take it for evidence. (Yes,) she determined quickly, stripping Fowley's holster, putting it on and gingerly sliding the Glock in place, careful not to smudge any prints.

She met Mulder at the door. His eyes narrowed when he saw what she'd done but realized at once that it was necessary. Scully neither apologized nor tried to comfort him. She had to do this. She had to close the book on Agent Diana Fowley and this was going to do it.

"Coast is clear." Mulder said simply, then took her hand and led her down the hallway. When he reached the door, he yanked it open, using his good right arm. His left side was one burning pain that intensified with movement and even breathing.

He looked inside. Beyond the gray door was an empty room lay out like the others except that the back wall was solid rock. Scully caught sight of the opening in the far right corner and silently pointed it out to Mulder. Gun drawn, he advanced cautiously as Scully stayed back to keep the door propped open, as there didn't seem to be any light fixtures. Mulder crouched before the opening. It was about four feet wide and tall; they'd have to crawl.

He moved inside and strained his eyes and was able to make out the opening some ten yards ahead, a pinpoint of light. He motioned Scully over. She stepped over and dropped to her knees, making it just as the door closed, plunging the room into darkness.

Scully froze until she felt Mulder's hand reach out and touch her shoulder.

"Just a second, Scully," he said quietly, "give your eyes a chance to adjust. The opening of the tunnel is ahead."

Scully blinked several times until she, too, could see the exit. "I'm ready," she panted softly.

Mulder didn't respond. He didn't think that she was anywhere near ready, but there was nothing else that he could do or say. Instead, he shifted around and began crawling, relieved to hear Scully right behind him. But then his imagination played a cruel trick and for one terrifying minute he was back in the vent in the Antarctic, the embryonic creature having just burst from its pod. He could actually hear the inhuman shriek and see the razor-sharp claws and deadly fangs as it chased them through the vent. His heart beating wildly, he grunted painfully and pushed the memory away. (It's just Scully - nothing else - just Scully.)

"Mulder?" Scully's voice strained and worried floated up to his ears.

He shook his head. "Nothing, Scully," he lied. "We're almost there."

Indeed, the light was much brighter and he could hear the waves crashing below.

In the enclosed tunnel, his own ragged breathing was amplified in his ears as well as Scully's desperate wheezing. The pain in his side was unrelenting and he attempted to crawl using only his right arm and leg in an effort to take some of the strain off the injured muscles.

They exited the tunnel and Mulder helped Scully to a standing position. He looked out over the beach to the ocean beyond. Scully stood by his side, letting the salty air sweep over her before looking down.

(Oh my God!) Fifty feet. It looked like a bottomless pit. (I can't do it. I can't.) She thought frantically, biting her lip to keep the negative words from escaping and clutched convulsively at Mulder's arm. Her legs felt like rubber and her palms slick with sweat.

Mulder recognized and understood Scully's terror. He was just as worried as she was, but there was no turning back now. They had to go down.

"Just do what I do, Scully," he told her as he took a step down. "I'll be one step ahead of you - always within reach."

Scully swallowed hard, her eyes wide, and nodded. After the first two steps, she realized that Danielle had been right. There were plenty of footholds and rocks to hold on to. Mulder, too, was encouraged even though the going was slow and nerve-wracking. He would step down first, make sure that the rock was solid then reach up and carefully guide Scully down.

After twenty feet, Scully held up her hand. "Wait-" she gasped, hunched over, trusting Mulder to keep her from tumbling down to the sandy beach below. "I - I - just - need -"

Minute by minute, her breaths were becoming shorter; her grips not as secure, the handholds became more slippery. She could feel the sharp rocks through the lightweight slippers that she still wore and her chiffon dress was ripped in several places where it had snagged on the same sharp rocks. Her body was stiffening up and the wind had increased causing her hair to fly across her face, blinding her. She felt as though someone had stabbed her in the chest with a white-hot knife. The nausea and physical exertion bathed her body in sweat.

Struggling for each breath, she held on by sheer reflex and somehow managed to stay upright. With strength she didn't know she possessed, she was able to keep the darkness at bay just a little bit longer.

Mulder, too, was feeling the strain. His left side was on fire. Waves of cramping pain had begun to shoot through his entire body sapping of the strength he so desperately needed. He kept expecting the explosion every second as he let Scully try and catch her breath. He wasn't sure how she was holding on and it scared him even more. Time was running out at an alarming rate. They had to get on solid ground.

Then another sound caught his attention. He looked back over his right shoulder and saw three helicopters in the distance, heading their way.

Mulder sagged with relief. "Scully, here comes the Calvary." He said a silent prayer of thanks as Scully bowed her head in acknowledgment, unable to speak.

Then, without warning, he slipped. His foot went first, sliding off the edge of the niche that he had thought was safe. Instantly, his grips gave way as he slid another fifteen feet, slamming his left elbow against a small protruding rock and skinning his knees and chin.

"Mulder!" Scully cried out in helpless horror.

Kicking and clawing frantically at a shallow crevice, Mulder came to a stop. Gasping, he fought to bring himself to a more secure spot. His elbow and knees while not broken were throbbing mercilessly. He could hear the helicopters getting closer. Looking up at Scully, his stomach clenched. Could she get down to him without help? He didn't think so.

He opened his mouth to call to her, when he saw her double over on the narrow rock. Scully gasped as the agonizing pain encircled her chest like a vise. There was to be no reprieve this time. It consumed her completely. It took her breath, her voice. She lost all control of her hands, her feet, and consciousness vanished in the blink of an eye. She didn't feel herself falling.

"Scully!" Mulder shouted - his arm shooting out to catch her and drag her in.

He wasn't even close.

Scully's body tumbled past him like a rag doll thrown down by a petulant child. Before he could take another step down, the compound exploded with an ear-shattering boom. The cliff shook, tearing his hands free and he lost his balance, crashing to the beach below, barely missing his fallen partner. He blacked out.

Chapter 25

Sitting in the co-pilot's seat in the lead helicopter, A. D. Walter Skinner forced himself to stay calm and focused. They were almost there. The tiny island was in sight.

Two of the three helicopters were filled with members of the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team. The HRT was an elite group with punishing physical requirements that turned out highly skilled agents, in a similar vein as the Navy Seals. Skinner tried to take comfort in that fact as the tension inside him rose with every passing second.

The third helicopter was loaded with flight doctors and nurses and enough emergency equipment to turn the chopper into an emergency room with wings.

Skinner ground his teeth, knowing that the caller had warned him that Agent Scully was ill. He hoped to God that there were survivors of this calamity. He -really- hoped to talk to whoever had kidnapped Mulder and Scully in the first place.

"There, sir! Up ahead on the cliff!"

The agent's voice in his headset startled him and Skinner gratefully accepted the binoculars placed in his hands. He quickly raised them to his eyes and adjusted the focus. It took only a minute to spot his two missing agents clinging desperately to the side of the cliff.

(Oh shit!) He thought, as he watched Mulder guide Scully down the rocks. Keeping the high-powered lens pressed firmly against his face, he had a front-row seat to the drama unfolding before him. The closer that they got, the more details that he was able to discern: Scully's slow, sluggish movements, the blood on Mulder's clothes.

When Mulder slid down the rock face, he had to resist the urge to reach out to the younger man and clamped his mouth shut against the shout that almost escaped his lips. The pilot, too, saw the trouble Mulder was in and tried to get more speed out of the jet helicopter. He was calculating the best angle to come in at when Scully fell.

The binoculars still in place, Skinner could see every horrifying detail. He saw that Scully had lost consciousness before she fell; her eyes were already closed. He knew that he'd never forget the look on Mulder's face as he watched his partner drop to the beach below.

Everyone was so engrossed in the plight of Mulder and Scully that when the bomb detonated, they were taken completely by surprise. It seemed as though the entire top of the island was consumed in a blaze of white light followed by a thick curtain of smoke. Skinner and the HRT watched the scene unfold before them as if in slow motion, stunned by the sudden thunder of the explosion. The resultant shock wave hit the helicopters with enough force that the pilots had to use every skill ever learned to keep control and land safely on the beach.

Chapter 26

By unspoken agreement, it had been decided that Dr. Jason Barton would take care of the female agent, Scully while Dr. Peter Hayes would tend to her partner, Mulder. Jason was the senior officer and had cross-trained in Cardiology, becoming Board Certified in both Emergency Medicine as well as Cardiology.

On the flight over, they had thoroughly studied Agent Scully's medical file, having been briefed by A. D.

Skinner on the caller's description of her current condition. Jason had to agree that it certainly sounded like pericarditis and when he saw her tumble down the face of the cliff, he suspected the worst. Cardiac tamponade. The infected fluid had collected between the cardiac muscle and the pericardial membrane surrounding it, reaching the point where the mounting pressure had compromised the pumping and filling power of the heart.

He quickly prepared his team members - he was more than likely going to have to perform an emergency percardiocentesis out here in the field. The team members tensed. Inserting an EKG-guided needle through the upper abdomen, the diaphragm and finally piercing the pericardium was a risky, potentially fatal maneuver under ideal circumstances.

"We have no choice, people. We don't do it now and she will die. Period." He refused to consider that she hadn't survived the fall. That was -not- an option. He reviewed what everyone's role would be and what equipment he wanted ready.

Peter Hayes had seen the blood on Mulder's clothes and his crash landing after the bomb detonated and had also prepped his own team. They were as ready as they were ever going to be.

After the hair-raising jolt they'd experienced when the shockwave hit, the choppers landed safely on the beach and everyone spilled out, knowing what their job was and hurrying to do it.

The medical team swarmed Mulder and Scully, while the HRT searched for survivors as well as any evidence that might have survived the blast.

Skinner remained with his two agents, careful to stay out of the way as the doctors and nurses went to work with a controlled urgency. There was nothing that he could do and yet he wasn't about to leave them now.

Jason reached Scully first and performed his first assessment in less than a minute after carefully turning her over. Airway: patent. Breathing: shallow, she was becoming cyanotic and her jugular veins were distended. Circulation: no distal pulses. Obvious deformity right leg.

"Move in, people, let's go! Somebody splint that right leg!"

For Skinner it was a blur. Faster than he'd have thought possible, Scully was intubated, hooked up to an EKG monitor, had two IV lines inserted and her right leg immobilized.

Jason had prepped the spot on her abdomen where he would insert the 18gauge, 3 1/2-inch cardiac needle, when he heard someone call out that there was no blood pressure and that the EKG showed sinus tachycardia. He was set.

Jason took a deep breath, refusing to look at his patient's face, and then plunged the needle into the white skin under his fingers. Slowly but deliberately he moved the needle forward, his eyes darting back and forth between his patient and the EKG looking for any sign that his aim was off. Suddenly, he was in.

He could see the blood at the hub of the needle and gently aspirated the fluid, filling the syringe with twenty cc's before hearing those incredible words:

"I've got a pulse!" One of the nurses called out joyfully.

Jason calmly acknowledged her and carefully removed the fluid-filled syringe. He handed it off with instructions to save the fluid for further tests and culture. (Walk in the park,) he muttered to himself, in an effort to slow his own racing pulse. The woman lying before him could have died in an instant and there wouldn't have been a damn thing that he could have done about it. (But she didn't.) He had to remind himself. And as far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered.

Skinner had caught snatches of the life-saving procedure being performed on Scully and breathed his own sigh of relief when he glimpsed the flicker of relief as well as fear on the doctor's face. That look told him more than anything else just how close Scully had come to dying right there before his eyes.

He glanced over and saw that an equally efficient team was tending to Mulder. While Scully was being loaded into one gurney, Mulder was already immobilized and strapped down to another. He, too, had an IV inserted and while he was breathing on his own, he had yet to regain consciousness.

Protocol dictated that he remain with HRT and as he watched them reload the helicopter with his two agents, he was extremely tempted to say the hell with protocol.

(Wouldn't Mulder love that?) He thought briefly, before turning back towards the cliff. He'd do his duty. He always did. (Well, almost always,) he allowed. Slip-ups almost always occurred when Mulder was involved. Scully, too. He walked resolutely away from the chopper knowing that he'd be useless at the hospital and he didn't want to call Mrs. Scully until he had something more to report.

(Coward.) He berated himself then pushed the thought away.

The medical-evac chopper took off behind him and Skinner never looked back.

Chapter 27

Dr. Peter Hayes kept a close eye on his patient as the helicopter took off. If asked, he would list the agent in "fair" condition. Personally, he considered the agent lucky, relatively speaking of course. He checked the dressings that he'd applied over the gunshot wounds, which had continued to ooze blood, and judging by the amount on his clothes, he had lost at least a liter.

"Run the normal saline wide open and when it's in give him another liter at 150cc/hr."

The nurse nodded and rolled the clamp up on the IV tubing, letting the fluid infuse at an unrestricted rate, and then reached over for another bag to have ready.

Peter rechecked his patient's pupils: equal and reactive to light. Good sign.

Through a barrage of pain, the muffled voices and the roar of the helicopter worked their way into Mulder's consciousness. Despite the pain, he tried to move and found that he could not. A guttural sound escaped his lips, and his slight movement caught the nurse's attention. She nudged Dr. Hayes.

Peter noticed the ineffectual movements and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's all right, Agent Mulder. You're safe now," he said loudly over the noise of the helicopter. "Squeeze my hand if you understand."

Mulder complied.

"Good. You're on a medical-evac helicopter. We've got you and your partner."

"I - I - understand." Mulder heard himself mumble.

Psychedelic colors twirled in front of his face as he opened his eyes and struggled to focus on the concerned faces staring down at him.

"We've got you immobilized on the stretcher. Don't try to move," Peter instructed him firmly.

Mulder had no intention of moving. Not when every part of his body was hurting and his mouth was so dry that it took every ounce of strength to get out one more word.

"Scully."

Peter wasn't quite sure what the man had just said, but he took an educated guess based on the depth of fear in his eyes.

"Your partner?"

Mulder blinked his eyes - unable to even nod because of the rigid C-collar around his neck like a noose. There was even a padded strap across his forehead.

"She's right here next to us. Dr. Barton is taking good care of her and she's in excellent hands." Peter reassured him.

Mulder stared hard at the face above him looking for any signs of deception. There didn't seem to be any that he could see. Some measure of relief creeped into his heart. That would have to do for now. Reluctantly he closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to remain awake. There was so much that he needed to know but the darkness would not be denied.

Peter looked over at Jason, and saw the worry in the man's eyes as he worked on the woman. He knew that there was a chance that the tamponade could recur before they reached the hospital and he didn't know if Jason felt like he could beat the odds twice. Jason saw Peter out of the corner of his eye and looked over. Keeping a neutral expression on his face, Peter gave a subtle "thumbs up".

Jason nodded. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. (Thanks, man.) He thought. (I needed that.)

Peter looked as though he had heard him and returned his attention to his patient.

Jason stared down at the woman before him, really seeing her this time. The color of her hair reminded him of his wife and his heart clenched at the thought. Marie. She had nearly died six years ago at the age of 34 of a heart attack. He had been on duty when they brought her in to the emergency room in full cardiac arrest. She looked just like this young agent, bright copper hair in stark contrast to the white sheets on the stretcher. All over again, he relived those terrifying hours not knowing if she would live or die. He shook his head. Marie had pulled through then and so would Agent Scully now.

Chapter 28

The helicopter landed at the hospital where medical personnel were waiting to take over. Jason and Peter each stayed with their respective patients to continue the care that they'd started in the field.

Mulder was prepped for exploratory abdominal surgery and x-rayed from head to toe. No broken bones were found but some serious bruises, sprains and strains promised that he'd be miserable for at least a week. The anesthesiologist was asked to put Mulder under as soon as possible since the nurses weren't sure that they could keep him in the bed without using four-point leather restraints, so intent was he on going to find Scully.

"I want to see her," he demanded hotly more times than they could count. As pleased as Peter was that Mulder was conscious and devoid of any serious head injury, he was certainly no where near ready to go traipsing off after his partner. He stayed with Mulder in the OR holding room until he was mercifully paged to go out on another flight.

Allison, one of the OR circulating nurses stepped over to Mulder's side to try and quiet him down. She had just been told that Dr. Bruce, the anesthesiologist would be ready in fifteen minutes but that she could go ahead and administer 5mg of Versed IV to get the ball rolling.

"Agent Mulder, my name is Allison. I'm going to give you some medication to calm you down now. They're almost ready to take you in."

"Wait!" Mulder said, unable to hide the desperation and fear. "Please. Tell me how my partner is doing. Please. I have to know. She's been so sick and then she - she fell..." he stumbled over the words, remembering.

Allison took his hand, her large hazel eyes full of pity and understanding. "It's okay, Agent Mulder. Hold on. Let me try and find out for you."

She stepped into a small office and picked up the phone. Mulder watched her through the window and could see her nodding, her lips moving but was unable to hear any part of the conversation.

At last she returned. Before saying a word, she injected the medication into his IV. "She's in surgery, Agent Mulder. They say that everything is looking good. I promise. And now it's time for you to get patched up so that you can see her when you're done."

Mulder felt a small stinging sensation where the IV entered his wrist. He tried to thank Allison, to let her know how relieved he was, how much that phone call meant, but the Versed was much too fast.

Allison smiled as she watched the drug take almost instant effect, removing the worry from his face. She didn't need to hear his thanks; she saw it in his face.

Chapter 29

Mulder slowly opened his eyes, preparing himself for the harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting to assault his eyes, which had been closed for too long. He was not disappointed. His hands gingerly probed the bandage over his left side as he blinked several times to clear his vision. Realizing that someone was standing at the window, he struggled painfully to pull himself to a sitting position.

(Too tall to be Scully,) was the only thing he could determine due to backlighting.

"Agent Mulder."

Skinner. Mulder tried to mask his disappointment. "Sir."

Skinner stepped closer, realizing the difficulty that Mulder was having and pulled a chair up to the bedside.

"You know, you and Agent Scully should consider another way to spend your weekends off, don't you think?" he asked casually as he steepled his fingers and leaned forward.

Mulder froze. He could almost picture his jaw dropping down to his chest. "What?" He managed to get out. (He did - not - just say that,) Mulder thought, crazily.

If Skinner noticed anything amiss, he didn't show it. "I mean, most people have picnics, go boating, and do yard work, but not you two. Always the non-conformists, aren't you?"

Mulder mentally shook himself. Maybe he was still out. Maybe he was hallucinating due to some weird reaction to the anesthesia. Maybe he was in the Twilight Zone. "Uh - Sir - uh - you do realize that this - uh - wasn't our fault? Right?"

"Relax, Mulder," Skinner said easily.

Mulder blinked in surprise, taken aback by Skinner's words and tone. "How's Scully?" He asked abruptly, wanting to change the subject.

Skinner's face twitched almost imperceptibly. "She's in the ICU. She just got out of surgery an hour ago."

Mulder started. Then he remembered the nurse's words in the holding room before his own surgery. Ignoring the stab of pain that went through him for moving, he tried to pull himself further up in bed.

Skinner held his hand up in a placating manner. "Will you settle down? The way the doctor described it, they made a hole in the lining of her heart to prevent fluid from building up around it again. That build up reached the point where her heart couldn't pump anymore. He thinks that's what made her fall from the side of that cliff."

Mulder closed his eyes as the painful memory of Scully's body plunging past his outstretched hand flashed before him. (Oh God - heart surgery - ) He'd visited a fellow agent several years ago that had had heart surgery. The tubes - the machines - the scar from throat to abdomen...He cringed at the thought of an eight-inch scar marring her body. It was an obscenity.

"They think that she could be released in the next seven to ten days."

Skinner's voice brought him out of his misery. "What?" He asked in disbelief.

"Apparently they've made a lot of progress with lasers and such. Minimally invasive..." Skinner reassured him having realized where Mulder's thoughts had taken him by the stricken look on his face.

Mulder sank back, almost overwhelmed with relief.

"She's going to be fine, Mulder." Skinner reassured him, with more than just a touch of compassion.

Mulder reached for the covers, when Skinner hand shot out and clamped down on Mulder's arm like a vise.

"Don't even think about it," Skinner said in a steely voice that brooked no argument. Mulder stared up at him with a look that bordered on incredulity.

"You'll get up when and only when your doctor says that you can," he continued almost conversationally. "Until that time, you - will - follow every order he sets forth. And if that means that I have to post an armed guard in here, I will do so. Is that understood, Agent?"

Mulder's eyes locked onto Skinner's and flared with indignation. Skinner lanced him with a grim stare of his own. Mulder met the stare and then said slowly, "Yes...sir."

Skinner released his hand and sat back, trying not to look smug.

Mulder blew out an exasperated breath, resisting the urge to pout.

"Sulk all you want, but seeing how yours and Agent Scully's medical files are giving War and Peace a run for

its money, I don't want to hear about you giving any of the doctors or nurses any trouble whatsoever."

Mulder didn't say anything at first, clenching his jaw in frustration. (This is ridiculous,) he huffed silently.

Skinner watched him closely. "Now that we've got that settled. I'd like to hear the details of what went on out there, if you're feeling up to it."

Mulder glared at his superior briefly, before finally admitting defeat. "Sure. Fine." He paused to collect his thoughts and successfully clamped down on the "whatever" that almost escaped his traitorous lips.

"If it helps, I talked with Mrs. Scully and she told me about Scully's house-sitting assignment," Skinner supplied helpfully.

Mulder nodded. "That was Thursday. On Friday, I received a tip about Dr. Theodore Dickerson and a discovery that he'd made on the God Module."

"So did I."

"From who? When?" Mulder asked in confusion.

"Saturday morning, an unidentified friend of yours gave me the same information in the hopes of finding you." Skinner informed him.

Mulder shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowed. (How desperate had Byers been to do that? And did the guys know? Later,) he told himself with a slow shake of his head before returning to the matter at hand. "I drove over to fill Scully in. I thought that we could go and investigate his lab."

"It's been torched," Skinner told him soberly. "We don't know by whom or if they got what they were looking for, but we're still checking it out."

Mulder sighed. "She was thorough," he muttered under his breath.

"Mulder?" Skinner prodded.

"Nothing. I'm getting to that part," Mulder said. "Okay, Friday night, two men burst into the house and thought that Scully and I were the doctor and his wife."

Skinner wasn't going to touch that line. No way. Besides, he remembered about the lasagna in the oven.

"We fought them," Mulder continued, "but obviously we lost. We were knocked out then injected with some drug to keep us out while they transported us to the island that you found us on. By the time we woke up, it was Saturday afternoon and Scully was really sick with fever and severe chest pain. She said that it was a result of that incident two weeks ago with Padgett."

Skinner pressed his lips together, but remained silent. He had thought that Scully was okay - that she'd been released to full duty. He decided to save that conversation for another time.

"Trays of food were sent in but we never saw or spoke to anyone until Sunday afternoon. That's when we met their leader." Mulder said.

"Agent Fowley," Skinner said flatly.

Mulder made no attempt to hide his surprise. He didn't say anything at first. Something very unpleasant seemed to be hanging in the room. "How did you know? Was her body found?"

"Nothing and no one survived that bomb." Skinner informed him grimly. "We had the gun that Agent Scully was carrying analyzed." He stared at Mulder hard. "Was Agent Fowley the one who shot you?"

"Yeah," Mulder whispered. He still couldn't believe it, would never really believe that she'd shot him in cold blood.

"Why?" Skinner was compelled to ask.

"She'd separated Scully and I. Tried to make me believe that Scully was dead and wanted me to join her." He shuddered slightly. "A young woman, I don't know her name, came into the room blaming Diana for her father's death, pointing a gun at her. Diana killed her. When I tried to leave, she tried to kill me, too, but Scully arrived and used the other gun. I remember two shots firing at almost the same time and I'm pretty sure that Scully hit Diana first, which, I think, is the only reason I'm still alive. She had me dead to rights at point blank range."

Skinner had to agree.

Mulder sank back against the pillows, suddenly spent. Reliving the horrors of the past several days, taking its toll. And he hadn't even gone into all the details, omitting especially the fact that the young woman's father had been Deep Throat.

Skinner sat there for a moment in an uneasy silence then he cleared his throat. "Agent Mulder."

Mulder slowly opened his eyes.

"I do understand that you want to check on your partner, but you need to take care of yourself first. The doctor hinted that Agent Scully would need some assistance in her recovery. I'm sure that you'll want to be there for her." He said in a neutral voice, his face absolutely unreadable.

To that, Mulder said nothing, and then slowly nodded. "Yes, sir, I would."

Skinner abruptly rose to his feet. "Then, I'll check on you later," he said stiffly and without waiting for a response, walked to the door.

Chapter 30

Insane asylum

Loony Bin

Nut house

Funny Farm

Psyche Ward

Mulder stared out the window from the bed and he thought that if he squinted his eyes - just so - there - he could actually see the bars and wire mesh covering it. They had locked up at last and thrown away the key. His forced separation from Scully had finally pushed him over the edge, sending his battered psyche plummeting down into the depths of psychological hell. The FBI had been saddened by the loss of one of their brightest profilers. Spooky Mulder was now officially crazier than a shithouse rat.

Certifiable.

"Dammit!" Mulder cried out furiously, slamming his hands down on the bed in a helpless rage. (Could he be any more pathetic than this?) He wondered angrily. Writing his own professional obituary had to be bottom of the barrel.

He hit the mattress again. He wanted to tear it apart - he wanted to hurt it - destroy it. Lying in a hospital bed - wallowing in self-pity and loathing himself for being so utterly pathetic. He squeezed his hands into fists and ground his teeth in frustration. He didn't know what to do. He thought of Scully, lying in the ICU and of Maggie Scully, who surely was keeping vigil.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Almost always before, only one or the other had been hospitalized. He had kept vigil at her bedside upon her miraculous return from her abduction, when she had stared down death again from cancer, and after she had been shot in New York.

She had sat with him after he'd been shot in the leg in North Carolina, when he'd been exposed to the retrovirus and had even saved him from the monster when he was strapped down on the bed. He shuddered at the memory of that creature. Scully believed him, though.

"My one in five billion," he whispered brokenly.

And when they both had been hurt, nearly drained dry by those bugs in the forest or aged nearly to death on that ship, they had been kept side by side.

"That's the way it's supposed to be," he muttered fiercely. He tried to swallow the anger - push it away - but he just couldn't. In this room, alone, he had nothing to stop the descent into despair.

He smashed his fists onto the mattress - first one then the other, over and over. The rage that started somewhere in the pit of his stomach traveled up to his shoulders than down his arms and flowed into his fists as they pounded the soft mattress. In the dark recesses of his mind, he imagined that he was pounding a brick wall - a much more painful if satisfying target.

The rage poured from him and he let himself revel in it. The pain pierced the wound in his side like a white-hot knife making him wonder briefly if he'd done any internal damage. In a heartbeat he decided that he didn't care.

"I think that the poor mattress has had enough, Fox."

Mulder jerked his gaze over - one arm frozen on the upswing.

Maggie Scully was standing just inside the door, arms crossed, head tilted to one side with a small frown on her face.

He never heard her come in, so lost was he in his own private hell. The small sad smile that replaced the frown and the fatigue in her eyes drained the last of the fury, as well as his strength from him. He slumped weakly back against the pillows.

"Mrs. Scully..." He didn't quite know what to say.

"Are you finished or should I come back later?" She asked quite seriously.

Mulder felt his cheeks flame. Feeling like a complete idiot, he shook his head. "Don't go. Stay. Please," he couldn't meet her eyes, but he couldn't let her go. He didn't want to be alone in this room anymore. "I'm sorry about that - I - I'm - I just..." his voice trailed away as he fought back the tears.

Maggie stepped over to the bed and stared down at him with concern. "Fox, what is it?"

Mulder chewed on his bottom lip. How could he explain it to her?

Maggie reached out and brushed an errant lock of hair from his forehead. Her cool hand felt wonderful against his heated skin and his eyes closed as he savored her caring touch.

"Fox, Dana's going to be all right. She will," she said soothingly, but Mulder heard a slight catch in her voice.

His eyes flew open and he searched her face desperately for the truth. "What? What aren't you telling me?"

Maggie huffed softly, irritated by her transparency. She had - never - been able to get anything past this man. Not when it concerned her daughter.

"Please - I have to know," Mulder pleased with her.

Maggie had a flash of understanding. She was looking at a man suffering withdrawal. Withdrawal from her daughter. An addiction like no other. He was wholly under Dana's spell and lying in this bed was slowly but surely pushing him to the point where he would so something rash; probably hurting himself in the process.

Quickly she sat down on the bed and took his startled face in her hands. "Fox - listen to me." She ordered.

He tried to twist away but she held on gently and firmly.

"No Fox. Stop it. I want you to listen to me. Right now." She was in full "mother" mode and Fox instinctively responded to the tone in her voice and lay still, looking up at her wide-eyed.

"That's better," she said soothingly. She picked up a washcloth on the table and poured a little water from the pitcher. "Dana is going to be all right," she told him calmly, running the cloth across his face and neck. "She spiked a fever but the doctor is with her, and he's ordering some tests but he assured me that she's going to be all right."

Mulder stared up at her, mesmerized. Maggie continued her gentle ministrations, watching him visibly calm. "She's going to need you," she went on, talking to him as if he were a child. "You're going to need to take care of yourself so that you can be there for her. That's what you want, isn't it?"

(That's what Skinner had said,) Mulder simply nodded. The cool damp rag felt wonderful. He was beginning to think that they had conspired behind his back and found that the best way for him to behave was to use Scully's needs before his own.

He had to admit that it was damned effective.

Maggie went on, "Now, I'm going to ask your nurse for a wheelchair and I'm going to take you over to the ICU for just a minute to show you that she's okay. And then it will be back to bed for you, do you understand?"

Unable to find his voice just yet, Mulder again nodded. Maggie felt tears sting her own eyes at the look on Fox's face. Hope replaced despair. Joy supplanted misery. Pure relief dispelled the pain. She was thoroughly in awe of the power of her daughter over this man. She leaned in and brushed a quick kiss on his forehead before hurrying out to locate a wheelchair.

Maggie didn't have to work too hard to get permission to take Fox to the ICU for a brief visit. Fox's nurse, Melody, had been all too aware of her patient's despondent mood. He hadn't eaten, he slept fitfully if at all and had obviously been having pain but had refused any medication. When Maggie had approached with the request, she had breathed a sigh of relief, having been - this - close to taking him herself. And to hell with doctors orders. Yes, Fox Mulder needed bed rest, but it was painfully obvious that that wasn't all that he needed to recover. She made a quick stop at the medication cart before accompanying Maggie back into his room.

She insisted that Mulder take at least a half-dose of Morphine to make the trip bearable. "Agent Mulder, I promise. It won't knock you out. I have no desire to watch you sleep in that chair since you're too heavy for the two of us to lift." She said with a grin. "It will just take the edge off. Please."

Mulder resisted at first, and then acquiesced since he didn't want to risk Melody pulling the plug on his visit to Scully. He had to finally admit that the pain wasn't going to just go away on its own. Melody quickly injected the narcotic before her recalcitrant patient changed his mind, then she and Maggie proceeded to help him into the wheelchair.

Mulder felt ridiculously helpless as the two women, both under 5'5" carefully maneuvered his 6'1" frame up and out of the bed. Grateful that he had accepted the medication, he sank into the chair, unable to mask his discomfort. Pale and sweating profusely, he allowed Maggie to bathe his face, while Melody placed a blanket on his lap.

Melody stood in front of the wheelchair and leaned forward, placing both hands on the armrests. She stared hard at Mulder, who met her gaze without flinching. He was getting his second wind and he was ready to do battle.

"I think that you should get back in bed, Agent Mulder," she said softly.

Mulder clenched his jaw and his eyes turned steely. Now that he was up he was not going back until his goal was met. "No. Not until I see my partner."

Maggie watched the battle of wills with a knowing smile. Poor Melody had no idea what she was going up against and the depth of his devotion for her daughter. Words would never be adequate to describe it and what they had was beyond special, beyond love that most people could only dream of and none could ever duplicate.

Melody sighed and straightened. "Okay. You win. Let's go. But don't you even think about getting out of that chair. You go see her, you come right back, and you get in bed. Got it?"

Mulder flashed her a smile and nodded. There was never a doubt in his mind that he'd win this one. Never a doubt.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 31

As Maggie pushed the wheelchair at a rate Mulder considered way too slow, it was all he could do to stay seated. Actually, he felt like he was floating along on Cloud 9, between the effects of the morphine and his elation at finally getting to see Scully.

He came crashing back down to Earth with a bone-jarring thud when he realized that the bustle of activity was coming from the room that Maggie was steering him towards. She was forced to pull back as the portable x-ray machine lumbered noisily past them. Mulder painfully craned his neck and was able to see that Scully was being hooked up to a 12-lead EKG machine while a nurse was drawing several tubes of blood.

"What's going on?" Mulder whispered nervously. "I thought that she was okay."

"The fever, Fox. Remember? They're just running some tests." Maggie whispered back.

"Oh - yeah." Mulder shook his head and tried to clear away the drug-induced cobwebs.

"The doctor said that he was doing a work-up to determine the source, but he assured me that she'd be all right." Maggie went on, confidently.

Mulder nodded, biting his lower lip in consternation. (Something else was wrong.) He thought fuzzily. He squirmed impatiently, trying to see past the equipment, the nurse, the tech but the bed was too high and he was too low. And then it registered in his brain. The metal, tubular framework over Scully's bed.

"Oh God," he hissed.

"What is it, Fox? Are you okay?" Maggie leaned over his shoulder and stared anxiously at his face.

"What - what happened to her leg?" He asked, his voice hoarse, as the EKG tech hurried past them, affording him his first good look. Scully's right leg was encased in plaster from her hip to her foot and suspended above the mattress.

"Oh, Fox, I'm sorry. I thought you knew - I thought that Director Skinner had told you." Maggie said sorrowfully.

"Told me what?" He asked, unable to tear his eyes away.

"That her leg was broken in the fall, Fox." Maggie admitted.

Mulder closed his eyes as yet again he saw Scully's body plunging past his outstretched hand. He should have known. He should have known that she had fallen too far to escape injury. Why couldn't he have caught her - he was there - he should have been able to save her.

Maggie knelt beside him. "Fox, stop it. I know what you're thinking, Fox and it won't do you any good."

Mulder slowly opened his eyes and dragged his gaze up to meet hers. "I tried. I tried to catch her."

Maggie sighed and without a word reached over and simple hugged him. "Don't do it Fox. Don't blame yourself. Please. I know you tried. Dana knows you tried. Now let it go. Blame isn't going to help you or Dana now. You can't look back."

She drew back to gauge the effectiveness of her words.

"You're right," Mulder admitted softly. "I know you're right, it's just that I keep seeing her going past me and I'm reaching and it's never enough."

"Fox, I can't make the bad memories just disappear," Maggie told him sadly, "but I think if you talk to Dana she might be able to help. Don't you agree?"

Before he could say another word, Maggie pushed him forward as the nurse lowered the bed to its lowest position then quickly slipped back out to give them some privacy.

Mulder at long last was able to see Scully's face. She was looking right at him, her cheeks flushed with fever. And in that instant, everyone and everything faded away leaving just the two of them.

Mulder stared at her, entranced. The bright crystal blue of her eyes captured him and drew him to her.

"Hi," she murmured in a breathy voice that sent an electrical current of joy straight to his heart causing it to skip several beats.

"Hi, yourself," he finally managed to get out in a voice heavy with emotion. He reached over to take her hand in his.

At his touch, Scully sighed happily, a smile lighting up her face and effectively driving away all the demons plaguing her partner's memory. "I've been waiting for you," she said, her tone informing him that she meant the sentiment on several levels.

"Well, you know how it is around here...so much to do..." His voice broke, overcome with relief and joy and he couldn't keep up the casual façade. The strength of the emotions simmered at the surface, threatening to spill over.

As their gazes locked, their hands clenched and suddenly words became superfluous. Mulder felt helpless under the spell of the woman lying before him. They had almost lost each other. Again. It had been close. Much too damn close.

And yet - they had won. Together, they had battled death and emerged victorious, but it was different this time. They were different. They had openly expressed their love for each other, pushing away barriers and mutually deciding that their relationship would go on to a higher level.

Maybe, somehow, that declaration had given them an added advantage in the game of life and death. They had already learned that together they were a force to be reckoned with. So now, what? Were they invincible?

(Probably not,) he thought hazily. But when she looked at him like she was now, he felt like he could take on the powers of heaven and hell...and win.

He bowed his head and pressed his lips to her palm as sudden tears coursed down his cheeks. Scully felt the wetness on her hand, even as her eyes became heavy with tears of her own. She lifted his chin.

Reading his face, Scully was moved to speak. "I love you, Mulder." She said her voice a throaty whisper.

"I'll always love you, Scully," he responded with a raw passion that touched her heart and her soul and sent them soaring to new heights.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly.

"I am now," he answered with a tiny smile touching his lips. "How about you?"

She nodded. "As long as I know you're here."

"I'll always be right here," he whispered, reaching up awkwardly to place his hand over her heart.

"I know," Scully smiled.

She licked her lips, suddenly finding it difficult to catch her breath. She looked over and caught sight of her mother moving in. "Time to go," she told Mulder sadly.

He kissed her palm again before reluctantly letting her go. "I'll be back," he promised.

"I'll be waiting," she reassured him.

"I'm sorry, Fox. I have to get you back." Maggie said sorrowfully.

Mulder kept his eyes on his partner, drinking her in. "I know."

"Behave," Scully mouthed the command as she watched him leave.

He quirked his lips and his eyes twinkled mischievously. "Never," he mouthed back.

And then he was gone.

Lying alone in the room, Scully fought down the wave of miserable raw panic that threatened to consume her. She felt as though all of her strength was taken away when her mother wheeled Mulder back to his own room. It was all she could do not to cry out, beg them to bring Mulder back to her. Here. He belonged here. Or let her go to him. That's the way it was supposed to be. Everyone knew that.

She heaved a great tortured sigh and sank back against the pillows as exhaustion set in claiming her thoughts. She held on to one, though, like a precious talisman to keep her safe. Mulder. . .

Chapter 32

2 days later

Maggie watched her daughter closely as she stared out the hospital window, absorbing all that the doctors had told her. For Maggie, of course, it had been unexpected to say the least, but Dana was either prepared for it or in shock. She lay quietly on the bed, one hand absently fingering the ever-present gold cross around her neck. Maggie wondered if she was gathering strength from it, or was it an unconscious habit.

She glanced over at the cardiac monitor that Dana was still attached to. The pattern was steady at eighty-six beats per minute. She found herself watching it...staring at it...it was almost hypnotic. She blinked and shook her head ruefully. A glance down at her watch let her know that Fox would be in shortly as he was in the process of being officially discharged from the hospital today.

"Dana," she called softly. She hated to intrude on her daughter's thoughts but she wanted to talk to her before Fox arrived.

Dana jumped slightly and turned to face her mother expectantly.

"Dana, what about work?" Maggie asked, thinking that she knew the answer already, but wanting to hear Dana verbalize it.

Scully's reply, however, took her completely by surprise. "To tell you the truth, Mom...I really don't know. A lot will depend on Mulder."

Maggie's brow furrowed, clearly displaying her confusion. "How exactly?"

Scully smiled wistfully. "Mom, I have to face facts. It's going to be at least a month, probably more before I can get around on my own. Work, even deskwork, is not possible unless I can do it at home. And since the infection of my heart prevents the necessary physical rehabilitation for my leg, it's going to take who knows how long to get back to fieldwork. If it was one or the other, I could manage, but together I'm completely helpless."

Maggie's heart broke as she listened to her daughter try to maintain her composure, even though she could easily see the pain and fear those last two words brought her as well as hear it in her voice. The slightest tremble betrayed her. Dana was indeed completely vulnerable and she was trying to appear strong as usual. And she probably did seem quite strong to others, but as her mother, Maggie saw through her easily and she was quite certain that Fox could as well. "You haven't told me exactly how Fox figures into this."

"Mom, I'm his partner, but I don't think that Skinner will let him work on his own. He never has in the past, at

least not for long. He will probably be assigned a new partner and since I don't know how long I'll be out, there might not be a position in the X-files unit for me to go back to. That is provided that I can make a full recovery."

There it was. Spoken calmly, matter-of-factly with her usual quiet reserve, Maggie felt like if she had blinked, she would have missed it. Dana had just sat there, wearing a cloak of clinical detachment and had just confessed one of her deepest, darkest fears without any fanfare. Anyone else would have missed it entirely.

(But a cloak can't hide your eyes,) Maggie thought sorrowfully. Looking into her daughter's blue eyes, she was confronted by the full force of what her daughter truly feared. It wasn't the fear of not having her job back, it was her fear of not being at Fox's side, protecting him as he protected her while they carried out their quest. A quest that had exacted a high price by her family and his, but one which it appeared that they were destined to continue.

Scully finally crumpled under the weight of her mother's caring and concerned gaze and let the tears she'd felt pooling in her eyes fall.

Maggie hugged her tightly. "Let it out, Dana," she whispered. "Let it all out." She stroked her daughter's hair, with tears of her own sliding down her cheeks. "Sweetheart, you know that Fox wouldn't let that happen. He's not going to go on without you. Not after everything that you've both been through. Surely you're aware of that."

"What if he doesn't have a choice, Mom?" Scully cried. "I can't hold him back. I won't."

Maggie shook her head and continued to console her distraught daughter. The depth of Dana's fear literally

took her breath away. When she heard the door open she looked up quickly, expecting to see Fox. It wasn't him but Dana's nurse, Abby. The young woman raised her eyebrows, silently asking Maggie if everything was all right. Maggie nodded yes, and the nurse slipped back out. She glanced over at the heart monitor. One hundred and ten beats per minute she saw and winced. Too high.

"Sshh," Maggie soothed. "Sshh. Fox isn't going anywhere without you. Even I know that."

Several minutes passed before Scully's cries turned to sniffles and to Maggie's relief, the heart monitor showed that her heat rate was down in the nineties. She continued to hold her daughter, whispering assurances that she hoped would ease her discomfort.

"I-I'm sorry, Mom," Dana whispered, unable to meet her mother's worried gaze as she tried to regain control.

"Sweetheart, don't. Don't apologize. I can only imagine how hard this is going to be for you. But I'm here for you. And Fox will be too." She told her confidently.

"I know he will," Dana replied, but Maggie could see the doubt that clouded her face.

Abby returned and handed Dana her medication including a sedative that she insisted be taken. Scully resisted at first, but Maggie urged her to take it, and stayed with her until she was asleep.

Chapter 33

Mulder had to restrain himself from whistling cheerfully as he showered. He was finally free of IV's and his surgical wound as well as the abrasions on his knees and elbows were healing nicely. There were some things in life that simply had no substitute and one of them was a long hot shower.

As the hot water pounded his still aching body, he had to remind himself that he couldn't stay in too long; per doctor's orders. But as he shampooed his hair and lathered his body with hospital issue soap, he let himself enjoy every single minute.

Finally, reluctantly, he turned the water off and reached for the always too small towel. Gingerly he patted himself dry, grimacing when he came in contact with the large bruises under the abrasions. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and did a small double take when he got his first look at himself.

"Well that's just great," he muttered in disgust, eyeing the large bruise that covered his chin, another reminder of that terrifying slide down the cliff.

The look of pure horror on Scully's face would live on in his cursed memory but with a shake of his head, he willed the image back into its furthest recesses. Weakly he lowered himself onto the toilet feeling a little dizzy. An unexpected knock on the door brought him out of his reverie with a jolt.

"Hey, Mulder! You in there?"

Mulder groaned good-naturedly: Frohike.

"Yeah, Mulder - what's taking you so long?"

Mulder shook his head, smiling: Langly. Two down, one to go.

"Mulder - are you okay?"

Bingo. Byers. "Be right out guys." Mulder shouted.

Several minutes later, Mulder exited the bathroom feeling human for the first time in days, comfortably attired in his own familiar clothes instead of an indecent hospital gown. He found Langly stretched out on the bed, while Byers and Frohike restlessly paced the room.

"Who died, Frohike?" Mulder teased, seeing that Frohike was dressed up in what Mulder called his "funeral suit" complete with bow tie and that he nervously clutched a small bouquet of wild flowers.

"Very funny, Mulder." Frohike retorted, self-consciously straightening the maroon bow tie.

"How are you feeling?" Byers asked quietly.

"Better all the time, man. Thanks." Mulder replied, catching and holding Byers' eyes. He sent a silent message to his friend, letting him know that he knew Byers had called Skinner and that he appreciated it.

"Well - we were worried." Byers stated, struggling to meet Mulder's eyes.

"I know. But it's all over now." Mulder said with a slight nod.

Byers breathed a silent sigh of relief, realizing that Mulder would keep his secret.

Langly watched them silently. Something had just passed between them, he was sure of it, but damned if he knew what. "So Mulder, how much longer 'til you're out?" He asked.

"As soon as I pack up and find a place for the lovely flowers Frohike brought me." Mulder replied breezily as he got his suitcase out.

"These aren't for you," Frohike protested. "I'm trying to get them in to the lovely Agent Scully."

Mulder paused with a frown. "What do you mean 'trying'?"

"The nurse said she wasn't to be disturbed because of the conference." Langly supplied helpfully, "And Frohike wanted to deliver 'em in person."

"Conference?" Mulder floundered. "What conference?"

Byers stepped in. "According to the nurse, Agent Scully and her mother were in conference with the doctors. I take it that you didn't know."

Mulder shook his head, stunned and more than just a little afraid. Having a 'conference' with your doctor didn't sound promising. In fact, he was pretty sure that it meant just the opposite.

Without another word, he turned and yanked open the door, bolting from the room with the Lone Gunmen hot on his heels. Mulder took two steps before running right into Maggie Scully.

"Oh!" Maggie cried out and Mulder instinctively reached out to catch her. Byers was hit from behind when he suddenly stopped to avoid Mulder and almost tumbled into him anyway. Langly, the last in line, almost laughed at the absurdity - it looked like a scene from the Keystone cops.

"Mrs. Scully - I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Mulder hastened to apologize.

Maggie stepped back, straightening her shirt. "Of course, Fox. I'm fine." She replied a little breathless.

"What's wrong?" She caught sight of the Lone Gunmen. "Who are your friends?"

Mulder ran a hand distractedly through his hair. "Frohike - Langly - Byers." He indicated each and they nodded politely. "This is Scully's mom. Maggie Scully."

"Pleased to meet you all. Dana's mentioned you, I believe." Maggie said and they returned the sentiment.

"I was going to see you and Scully," Mulder broke in impatiently on the pleasantries. "They said that you were in a conference. What's going on?"

"Why don't we go back in and talk. Dana's asleep right now." Maggie suggested, stepping into Mulder's room.

Mulder hesitated. He really needed to talk to Scully. See for himself that she was okay. But Maggie, seeing that Mulder hadn't followed her in, reached back and took him by the arm. "Come on, Fox. You too, boys." Maggie called back to the Lone Gunmen.

Frohike snickered and elbowed Byers. "Boys." He whispered and even Byers had to grin. They all, including Mulder, sat on the bed while Maggie took the only chair.

"I'm going to get right to the point. Dana is looking at a long recovery period, Fox. That's what the doctors told her." Maggie admitted.

Mulder swallowed hard and braced himself. "How - how long?"

The Lone Gunmen exchanged worried glances.

"We don't know for sure, but the cardiologist has laid down strict guidelines about any strenuous activity, how fast her heart rate can be and the orthopedist said that she'll be in that cast for a month, maybe more." Maggie told them.

Mulder was unable to hide the pain he was feeling. (Things just kept getting better and better.) He knew

that Scully would be on crutches for a while but he also knew that crutches were hard work and anyone who told you differently was fooling themselves. And not only crutches, but wearing that heavy plaster cast. (Hell, the damn thing probably weighed as much as his petite partner.)

Then it hit him. If Scully had restrictions on strenuous activity, and going around on crutches with a cast definitely constituted strenuous, then she wouldn't be allowed on crutches. Not until the cardiologist cleared her.

"She won't be able to get about on her own." He said in dismay.

"She's going to need our help, Fox, but I'm not exactly sure what to do. Dana is so independent and to be put in this position I know will be one of the hardest things she's ever had to do."

Mulder agreed. He tried to picture Scully in her apartment, trying to get around with that cast, exerting herself against doctor's orders, needing help and refusing to ask. Stubborn Scully. He truly loved all of Scully, but that stubborn streak was definitely a force to reckon with.

And yet, her stubbornness had a positive aspect and he didn't want her to lose even a tiny part of herself while getting through this. They would have to find a place in the middle: allow Scully as much independence as possible, keep her spirits up without compromising her health and refraining from hovering over her every minute.

For several minutes, they were all quiet, thinking and puzzling over the dilemma.

"I think I have an idea - but I'm going to need everyone's help. And we'll have to hurry." Mulder spoke up.

"Anything you need, Mulder - we'll get it." Frohike vowed.

"That's right, man," Langly added. "What can we do?"

Mulder laid out his plan and Maggie was skeptical at first but with some fine tuning and input from all of them, she quickly warmed to the idea. With suggestions from her, they came up with what they hoped would be an ideal proposal. Mulder made a call while the others waited with baited breath to hear if they could move ahead with their plans.

"It's a go." Mulder announced.

Everyone sighed in relief.

"When do we tell her?" Maggie asked as she stood to leave.

"We don't." Mulder stated flatly. "Not until she's in the car, leaving this place."

Maggie couldn't help but laugh. Mulder obviously was not going to underestimate Dana's strength. He was more than a match for her daughter and she prayed that they would finally live the love that she saw in both their eyes.

"All right, Fox. I better get started. Tell Dana that I'll see her in the morning." Then she hurried off, still not quite sure if they could do it and just exactly how Dana would respond. Quickly she shook off her doubts. Fox loved her daughter and she had to have faith in that love. He would make it work and heaven help anyone who stood in his way. Actually she had to admit that his optimism was infectious.

The Lone Gunmen received their assignments and then they too rushed out. Mulder waived them out even as he began making more calls. If this was going to work, they had no time to waste. And it was going to work, he vowed. In a heartbeat it had all become so clear to him and everything else just faded away. He knew what he had to do.

Chapter 34

Scully awoke with a muffled cry of alarm. One hand flew to her mouth as she realized that her eyes were indeed open, but the room was almost completely dark, causing instant disorientation. In that brief startled moment she was back on that island, in that windowless cell.

All rational thought fled and she moaned softly, cold all over and shivering. "No." She whispered. "No." She forced herself to close her eyes, to breathe slowly, allowing the brief panicky thoughts to dissipate. Her hands clutched instinctively at her chest feeling her heart pound, her muscles tight and painful.

Suddenly and without warning, the door opened. Startled, Scully jerked her head over with a sharp intake of breath.

"Mulder?" She managed to call out, her voice hoarse, her fear quite evident.

"No, Dana, it's Abby. Your nurse." Abby stepped over. She turned on the over-bed light and quickly assessed her patient. She didn't like what she saw or what she'd heard in Dana's voice. She flicked her gaze over to the cardiac monitor and frowned at the reading. "Dana, what is it? What's wrong?"

Blinking against the too bright light, Scully fought to gain control over her troubled expression, wishing that the monitor faced her so that she could see it for herself. "I - I'm fine," she answered, not knowing for sure just now if she was or not.

"Are you sure?" Abby asked carefully, apparently reading her patient's mind and not wanting to provoke her. Dana's heart rate was slowing, but her breathing was a bit ragged, her cheeks flushed. "Maybe I should get you - "

"No!" Scully broke in anxiously.

Abby stared at her.

Scully lowered her voice. "I'm fine," she told Abby steadily now. "I just woke up from the medication I had earlier. I don't want anymore - please. I'm fine, really."

Abby nodded in understanding. She leaned down and rearranged the pillows and straightened the rumpled sheets. "Okay. For now." She told Scully, noting the lines of stress that hadn't quite gone away.

Scully smiled gratefully. She got the implied message.

"Is everything okay in here?"

Both women jumped at the sound of Mulder's voice in the doorway.

Abby whirled around. "Agent Mulder," she scolded. "Do you mind? I just got my patient settled back down. I don't appreciate being snuck up on either."

Contrite, Mulder mumbled an apology and Abby sighed in exasperation.

"It's all right." She grinned good-naturedly. "A simple knock will do, for future reference." She glanced back at the monitor and Dana then went back to her rounds as Mulder stepped aside to let her pass.

"Gee - was it something I said?" He quipped as he hurried over to Scully's side. Without hesitation, he leaned over and brushed his lips tenderly over hers.

Hungrily, Scully immediately wrapped her arms around his neck to pull herself deeper into the wondrous kiss, her lips parting instinctively.

Mulder groaned as a flood of emotions coursed through him like wildfire - love - passion - desire - want. Want. He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to pick her up. He wanted take her out of here and ...

Reluctantly, he put a stop to that line of thinking for now. At least he was able to kiss his Scully and finally express his love to her. The rest, by necessity, would come later.

When they finally broke apart, Scully stared up at him, raptly, her blue eyes shining with happy tears. "I love you," she murmured breathlessly.

Mulder softly stroked her cheek. "I'll always love you."

Scully managed to make room on the bed so that he could sit, which he did, taking great care not to jar her leg.

"Got a question for you," he said earnestly.

Scully cocked an inquiring eyebrow at him and the sudden topic change. "Shoot."

"What, exactly, did Abby mean when she said 'I just got my patient settled back down'?" He inquired.

Scully bit her lip and looked away guiltily. Mulder immediately reached over to take her chin and gently brought her face back around. "What?" He asked as he looked down at her, his fears returning. "What's wrong?"

She swallowed hard and saw the concern clouding his eyes. She sighed. "I was afraid," she said simply, venting her frustration at her earlier behavior.

"Afraid?" Mulder asked in amazement. "Of what?"

Scully slumped. "I woke up - it was dark - no one - no one was here and for a moment - for just a moment," she faltered then went on. "For a moment, I thought that I was back on the island."

"Oh, Scully," He bent down and carefully took her in his arms. "I'm here. I'll always be right here for you.

Always. I promise."

Scully felt two tears slip out unbidden. "I know. I do know. It's just - it's just that I haven't' seen you

since the doctors talked with Mom and me. I'm so tired of being stuck in this bed all day. And Mom's gone and they gave me a sedative and it was dark in here when I - " She broke off. "Oh God, when did I become such a baby?"

Mulder took her face in his hands. "You, Dana Katherine Scully, are most certainly NOT a baby. Well, at least not in the sense that you mean," he grinned.

Scully smiled shyly.

Mulder went on, relieved by her smile. "I spoke to your mom earlier - she told me to tell you that she'll see you later. She's got some things she's got to take care of. I've been in and out of here myself, but that pill they gave you really knocked you out, so I was doing some errands, too and getting a report for Skinner."

Scully huffed. "There's just no end to the paperwork, is there?"

"Nope. And just to make sure that you don't die of boredom in that bed, I brought you your laptop, so that you can make your report." He said playfully.

"Gee, thanks, Mulder," Scully groaned. "Just what I wanted." Then she laughed.

"What? What's so funny?" Mulder asked quizzically.

"Most guys bring flowers," she teased. "You bring me a laptop."

"Very funny." Mulder retorted. "You make it sound like I didn't bring you anything else."

That got her attention and she craned her neck to look around him and the traction set-up. "Well, I don't see any new flowers, or nicely wrapped presents lying around, and baseball is out for a while, so what is it?"

Mulder leaned back and took Scully's hands in his. The look in his eye caused hers to widen and she grew silent, waiting. Something was about to happen. She could feel it. The air in the room suddenly became thicker and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. Silently and without taking his eyes off of hers, he released her right hand to reach into his pocket. Scully kept her own eyes on his face, trying to read the emotions that flickered across it but not quite succeeding. When she felt him fumble with her left hand, she jerked her gaze down to see what he was doing.

She found herself staring at the most incredibly gorgeous ring now on her left fourth finger. The brilliant diamonds caught the light and reflected back at her like the stars in the heavens above.

She was utterly speechless.

"Dana Scully - will you do me the ultimate honor of marrying me and making my life complete?"

Transfixed by the beautiful ring and the magical words that she never thought she'd ever hear cross his lips,

Scully was completely overwhelmed.

"Is that a yes?" Mulder asked, apprehensive at her silence.

"Oh my God, Mulder," Scully breathed. "Yes. Most definitely, absolutely, without a doubt - yes." And she realized how true it was: without a doubt. She had doubts before, but not anymore. They would work it out. They would work everything out - together.

She carefully wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face at her neck. The sensation of his tears trailing down her back brought tears to her own eyes and she pulled him even closer. The only thing in life that mattered was holding her and she knew how foolish they'd been to ever think otherwise.

"I love you, Scully," his voice muffled.

She smiled. "I'll always love you, Mulder."

Chapter 35

Abby checked her watch and quickly reviewed her patients' charts, noting any new orders, keying in lab and x-ray requests and verified that no medications would be due for the next hour. She then rounded on her patients, making sure that they were settled before tackling the charting that she found so tedious and seemed to get worse every year.

She ran into Director Skinner as he was leaving Dana Scully's room. He had been in every other evening or so and always had a kind word for her and the other nurses on duty. They exchanged pleasantries and before heading out, escorted her back to the nurses' station.

Abby tried not to groan as she gathered up her nurses notes and settled in, hoping that the call buttons would be silent long enough for her to finish.

Fifteen minutes had passed, when she heard the elevator ding, signaling that someone was coming. She looked up from her paperwork and couldn't help but smile when she saw who exited. Agent Fox Mulder, grinning madly who did not walk these days: he floated.

Abby discreetly elbowed the nurse sitting next to her. "Melody," she whispered. "Look who's coming."

Without raising her head, Melody glanced down the hall. "What's he so happy about?" She whispered back as Mulder got ever closer to their position.

"Hang on a sec and I'll tell you," Abby promised, then quickly raised her head to greet the visitor. "Good evening, Agent Mulder," she called cheerfully.

Mulder, eager as usual to get to Scully's room, hated to delay, but politely acknowledged the two nurses who had taken such good care of them.

"You just missed Director Skinner," Abby informed him.

"Thanks, Abby, I'll catch up with him in a bit," Mulder responded. "See you later," and he was gone.

Melody looked over to see Abby grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "All right - what's the scoop? Let me have it," she demanded with a gleam in her eye.

"He proposed!" She crowed happily.

"What?" Melody felt her mouth drop open. "You're kidding!"

"Nope," Abby sighed, staring wistfully down the hall. "Isn't it romantic?" she asked in a dreamy voice. "You should see her ring - it's simply gorgeous. I had gone in to give Dana her meds and her mom was there, saying she just couldn't believe it, and they were all laughing and crying. Dana was positively glowing and Fox couldn't keep his hands off of her."

"Wow," Melody managed to get out, dumbstruck that she had missed it. "That is so incredible. A real proposal on our floor."

"I know," Abby said, "I just can't believe it either."

"Well, having recovered from my earlier shock - I can," Melody said knowingly.

"Why?" Abby asked, puzzled.

"Are you kidding? He's so in love with her, I couldn't believe that they weren't married already." Melody informed her, recounting Mulder's determination to see Scully and what the ICU nurse had overheard.

"Yeah," Abby agreed. "But it's still romantic," she sighed again, propping her chin on her hand and turned her gaze back down the hall to Dana Scully's room.

Chapter 36

Unaware that he and Scully were the hot topic of discussion at the nurses' station, he could hardly contain his excitement as he bounded into her room. He had been far too busy getting ready for Scully's discharge, dodging her questions as to his whereabouts and he missed her terribly. He was bereft when he wasn't with her now; when he was unable to simply reach out and touch her, and kiss her whenever he wanted. And he wanted to all the time now.

He went straight to his now appointed place on the bed, where he would expect Scully to smile beatifically up at him as usual, inching over carefully to one side to give him room to sit down next to her.

As he settled in and leaned over to kiss her hello, he realized immediately that her smile was not quite as bright today.

"Hey," he said softly, stroking her cheek. "What's wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?" It took a monumental effort on his part to keep the worry and fear out of his voice, even as his stomach clenched painfully.

Scully reached up and clasped his hand in hers. "I'm okay," she reassured him. "Just a little sad. Skinner just left and he didn't exactly have good news."

Now Mulder was really worried. Had Skinner said something to Scully about their getting married? They had told him that details would be addressed after Scully's recovery and not to worry.

"Abby told me he just left." Mulder said nervously.

"He just wanted to let us know that there still hasn't been any sign of the Dickersons or Gibson." Scully told him despondently. "Mom is just beside herself, even though I told her that there's nothing she could have done."

"That's right." Mulder agreed, slightly relieved. "In fact, if it had just been her there Friday night, it's possible that those guys wouldn't have done anything to her and simply stepped up their search for the doc. Maybe the extra time allowed him to escape."

"I tried to tell her that." Scully said. "Anyway, he also told me that there's no way to get any further forensic evidence to tell us exactly who Danielle was."

"Who?" Mulder asked, his confusion obvious.

"Danielle. The young woman who took care of us." Scully stared at him. "Oh, Mulder, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you didn't know her name."

"No, it's okay. It just took me by surprise," Mulder told her. "We really haven't discussed her. Actually, I wanted to tell you something that I didn't even tell Skinner."

"What?" Scully asked, intrigued.

"Before Diana killed her, she said that Deep Throat was her father and that Diana killed him as surely as if she'd pulled the trigger herself." Mulder admitted painfully.

"Oh my God," Scully whispered, shocked. "And we still don't know Deep Throat's real name."

Mulder hung his head, shaking it sadly. "Right back where we started."

Scully reached up and pulled him down, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him as hard as she could. "But at least we have each other."

"Yes, we do," Mulder replied and Scully could hear the smile as he spoke.

Chapter 37

Mulder looked out the window in Scully's hospital room and sighed heavily. On the day of her long-awaited discharge, the rain was coming down in buckets.

(Torrential. Raining cats and dogs.) He sighed again. (Knock it off,) he admonished himself. (You don't have to be a human thesaurus to make a point.)

Under normal conditions, he knew that he wouldn't mind getting a little wet. (Okay, a lot wet.) Scully wouldn't mind either, he reasoned, if it meant getting out of the hospital, but there was her cast to reckon with. The huge, hip to foot, monstrosity that couldn't get wet under any circumstances and the awnings over the patient loading zones were ineffectual against horizontal rain.

And so they were forced to wait out the storm. Scully had been dressed and ready to go when they heard the first crash of thunder. Mulder left Jackie and another nurse to help get Scully in the wheelchair while he had rushed out to bring the Explorer he'd rented around. He was too late. With a deafening crack of lightning and a thundering boom, the rain began to pour from the black clouds above.

Ignoring the "Do Not Park" signs posted everywhere; he'd thrown the vehicle into park and turned off the ignition. The wind was blowing hurricane force, nearly knocking him to the ground as he ran out and by the time he'd gotten to the door, he was completely drenched.

Jackie was just getting off the elevator, pushing Scully in the wheelchair with her casted leg sticking straight out in front of her, when she caught sight of the dripping Mulder, now looking like a drowned rat. Without a word, she backed into the elevator with Scully and waited for him to catch up to them.

Scully stared up at him, smiling sadly. "Guess we should have watched The Weather Channel, huh?"

"It's okay, guys," Jackie tried to console them. "Census is low so nobody's waiting for your room. You can make yourselves comfortable and I'll have them send up something to eat, if you want."

"Nothing personal, Jackie," Mulder said ruefully, "but I don't think either one of us wants to spend another night here."

Jackie smiled in sympathy. "Oh, I understand. I always tell my patients that I don't ever want to see them in here again unless it's to visit."

Mulder and Scully exchanged amused glances as they were ushered back to her recently vacated room and got Mulder dried off.

Mulder was pulled from his reverie by a blinding streak of lightning followed immediately by an explosion of thunder causing him to reflexively jump back.

"Mulder," Scully called worriedly, raising her voice to be heard above the rain pelting the glass, "please come away from the window - you're scaring me."

He guiltily looked over at her, lying on the bed. She had stubbornly refused to get under the covers saying that it made her feel like a patient all over again. Quickly he shut the curtains and resolutely turned his back on the raging storm outside.

"Are you sure you don't want to get more comfortable?" he asked, looking at the flowing skirt she wore. Maggie had gotten Scully several different lightweight skirts that they both felt world be easier to get over the cumbersome cast.

"I'm fine, Mulder, really," she said, "but I'd feel better if you were over here instead."

Mulder grinned. "Well, you know that I always feel better when I'm next to you."

Another thunderclap drowned out Scully's reply and she flicked her eyes over to the window, seeing a flash of lightning around the edges of the curtains.

Mulder sat down next to her on the bed. "You want me to doodle on your cast?"

Scully arched one eyebrow. "I don't think so, Mulder. I have no intention of seeing any obscene pictures on this thing and then trying to explain it to the doctor."

"How about I put it where you can't see it and then - I'll - explain it to him," he teased her.

Scully swatted at him playfully as he easily backed out of her reach with a laugh.

After explaining weather conditions to Maggie and the Lone Gunmen, they spent the next two hours playing a variety of card games and eating the sandwiches Mulder brought up from the hospital cafeteria.

At last the thunder ended, but the wind and rain showed no signs of stopping and Mulder finally lay down next to Scully, his head nestled comfortably in her lap. The sound of the falling rain soon lulled him to sleep as did feeling Scully's hands lovingly roaming across his face, his hair, stroking his shoulder and arm lightly.

She marveled when she felt him drift off to sleep and thanked God that she was alive to do so.

Chapter 38

"Mulder, wake up," Scully gently nudged him.

"Huh? Wha - ?" Mulder mumbled incoherently, trying to burrow deeper into her lap.

"Come on, Mulder. Wake up," she said insistently, gripping his shoulder and shaking him. "The rain stopped. Come on - let's go."

With a yawn, Mulder sat up and stretched lazily. "Wow. That's what I call a power nap. How long was I asleep?" he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Three hours," Scully answered, thinking how sexy that "just woke up" voice was and how she rarely got to hear it. Usually he was the one waking her up from a sound sleep. (Might have to try waking him up more often,) she briefly considered.

Mulder shook his head in amazement. "Unbelievable." He looked at her closely. "How about you? Did you sleep?"

Scully shook her head. "I'm fine, don't worry. I'm much too excited to sleep anyway. I kept thinking the storm would quit any minute and I didn't want to be asleep when it did." She pushed him up. "Now enough chit chat, come on. Let's go. Let's get this show on the road."

She didn't add that she'd been worrying about what her life was going to be like for the next several weeks. Her tiny apartment, the wheelchair, the awkward crutches. She imagined being confined to bed or the couch while Mulder went to work, or being "babysat" by her mother. She loved her mother, of course, but she just couldn't picture them remaining friends cooped up in her apartment for days on end. She hadn't expressed her fears to either Mulder or Maggie, preferring to deal with it when she was discharged. Now the time had come and as much as she wanted to leave, part of her was dreading what came next.

Mulder bit back the chastising words that nearly escaped his lips. (Well, maybe it'll work out for the best this way,) he reasoned. (If she sleeps in the car, then I won't have to explain where we're going.)

Chapter 39

Jackie was off duty, but Melody came in with the wheelchair and she helped Mulder get Scully out of bed and into the chair. Mulder glanced around the room one last time to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything as Melody wheeled Scully out.

Scully looked around for Mulder's car. Not finding it, her confusion was made complete when Mulder opened the only vehicle at the curb. "What's with the Explorer?" she asked, puzzled.

"It'll be more comfortable for you to stretch out in," Mulder explained as he gently scooped her up. He eased her into the back seat as Melody helped guide Scully's casted leg.

Scully kissed his nose affectionately as she let Melody and Mulder get her settled for the trip home, propping her leg up with pillows and covering her snugly with a wool blanket.

The heavy rains had brought cooler weather and Melody shivered in her lightweight scrubs. "Do you have everything?" she asked one last time, before Mulder shut the door.

"I think so," Mulder responded. "I filled the prescriptions yesterday and took them home with her crutches and wheelchair."

"And I have the doctors' phone numbers and dates for follow-up visits, as well as their lists of do's and don'ts," Scully added with a grimace.

"Good. By the way, Abby called a little while ago and wanted me to give you this." Melody handed Mulder a slip of paper.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Her address. She wants a wedding invitation." Melody said with a mischievous smile.

Mulder and Scully laughed in delight. "Don't worry," Mulder told her happily, "You're both invited. And thanks for everything. Tell Abby too."

Scully nodded in agreement. "That's right. Your names will be on the top of the list. Now get back inside before you freeze out here." She scolded with a grin.

After a last round of good byes and well wishes, Melody hurried back inside and Mulder jumped in the Explorer. Huddled under the blanket, Scully waited patiently for him to get the heater going, wishing that she had one of her sweaters.

Mulder adjusted the vents and shifted in his seat so that he could check on Scully stretched out behind him. "Is it any warmer back there?" he asked in concern.

Scully nodded and reached out to take his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Take me home, Mulder," she said, unable to keep the fatigue out of her voice. Now that she was out of the hospital, the adrenaline faded away leaving her obviously exhausted.

Mulder kissed her hand. "Your wish is my command. Try to rest, okay, Scully."

Scully needed no further encouragement and settled back against the pillows. Her eyes slipped shut immediately and within minutes she was sound asleep.

Chapter 40

With Scully sleeping behind him, Mulder pulled out his cell phone and called Maggie to let her know that they were on the road.

"Did you tell her?" Maggie asked, unable to hide her glee. Although she'd had her doubts about Fox's plan at first, it had turned out perfectly thus far and she could hardly wait to hear Dana's reaction.

"Not yet," Mulder replied, as he flicked his gaze behind him to check on Scully. "She's asleep right now."

"I'll call the boys and let them know." Maggie said.

Mulder had to choke back his laughter every time that Maggie called the Lone Gunmen "the boys". He teased them about it relentlessly even though he knew that they were touched by Maggie's endearment.

"Are you sure you don't need me to come over?" Maggie asked hopefully, breaking in on Mulder's thoughts.

"We'll be fine," he said with a quiet laugh. "Thanks again for everything you've done."

"It was my pleasure, Fox." Maggie told him. "You just take care of my baby girl."

"Always." Mulder vowed with an affectionate glance back at his fiancée.

As he turned off the phone he realized that Scully had shifted slightly, causing the blanket to fall away from her feet. Diligently keeping his eyes on the road, he managed to pull the blanket back over them without waking her up.

He began to mull the word fiancée over in his mind. Fiancée. Over the past years, Dana Scully had been so many things to him; so many necessary things. Now she was taking on a new role, albeit a temporary one. He intended to elevate her to wife as soon as humanly possible. That meant a wedding.

He groaned silently. While he knew that he'd never get away with the quick Vegas ceremony he envisioned, he desperately hoped that he wouldn't be subjected to an overblown, ostentatious affair, rivaling a royal wedding.

Then he remembered sadly that Dana was Maggie's only daughter now. That, directly or indirectly, depending on his mood, he was responsible for Melissa's wrongful death.

He shook his head and vowed right then and there to go along with whatever Maggie and Scully wanted. He owed her that much. He owed her so much more.

Chapter 41

"Hey, sleepyhead - rise and shine back there." Mulder called, as he pulled into the driveway. He turned on the interior light, causing Scully to groan and immediately cover her eyes.

"Mulder -"

"Come on, Scully. Time to go inside." He turned the light off and then the engine.

"Thank you," she muttered, trying to let her eyes adjust.

Scully glanced around, realizing how dark it was. She pulled herself up as far as she could. (Wait a minute. Why is it so dark? Where are all the streetlights? Where is all the traffic?)

"Mulder, what's going on? Where are we?" she asked, trying to see outside.

"Just a minute, Scully and all will be made clear." Mulder answered her with a grin as he climbed out of the Explorer.

Scully impatiently waited for him to help her out, her curiosity piqued. She heard the door open behind her, and then Mulder was easing her backwards, out of the car. Gripping the top of the doorway, she tried to help him, but he admonished her to let him do all the work. Scully huffed silently and tried to mask her discomfort as the pain in her leg flared when Mulder lifted her up. She bit her lip to keep any sound at bay, burying her head in Mulder's shoulder.

"Sorry, Scully," Mulder whispered contritely, as he got her out at last. He stepped away from the car and Scully shook her head.

"I'm okay," she whispered back, kissing his cheek. She looked around, trying to determine where he had taken her, since it obviously wasn't to her apartment, his apartment, or her mother's house.

It was so dark and quiet; she knew immediately that they weren't in the city. "Mulder, where are we?" she asked, seeing a charming clapboard house with a brightly lit porch.

Mulder just held her tighter and moved up the steps. With some careful maneuvering, he was able to get the front door open and step inside, with jarring her leg any further.

Scully caught smell the fresh paint and saw a light switch within her reach. "Mulder - let me get the lights." She indicated the switch over his shoulder and Mulder paused long enough for her to turn them on. She looked around expectantly.

It took a minute for Scully to realize why the couch seemed so familiar. It was hers. And wasn't that lamp the same one he kept on his desk? What was her computer doing here? And who put her wall hanging in the hallway?

Mulder moved to her (?) couch and set her down, delighting in the look of utter shock on her face. Her blue eyes were wide as she looked around, missing nothing. Familiar items mixed with unknown, all in a place she'd never been before.

Finally she found her voice - barely. "What's going on?" she asked her voice as soft as a whisper. "Where are we?"

"Quonochontaug."

Scully's mouth worked, struggling mightily to make sense of it, to respond verbally. She felt like Alice and her she was, right in the middle of Wonderland without any warning.

When she saw that Mulder was grinning from ear to ear, nearly bursting with excitement, she threw up her hands in defeat. "I give up."

"My mom said that the house is ours to do with as we please, for as long as we want. The guys hooked up cable - satellite dish - the computer. You mom made or bought enough food to last into the millenium. I think that the whole town got together to get this place ready to live in, including wheelchair ramps and made sure that the furniture and stuff was arranged so that you could maneuver around them easily."

Scully was still having a hard time taking it all in, and blinked in surprise. (The whole town?) "You mean I'm going to be living here?"

"Well, me too, if that's okay," Mulder said with a wink.

"But - but - won't that be a long commute? Or are you just going to be here on weekends?" Scully asked, confusion maintaining its firm grip.

Mulder took her hands in his. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" He asked innocently.

Scully's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Tell me what?" she asked slowly, not sure if she was ready to know what.

"I'm not going back to D.C. without you. Period." He announced.

Scully simply stared at him. Realization of the full meaning of his words sunk in. "The X-files - ?" she broke off uncertainly.

"I told you, Scully. I don't want to do this without you. The X-files will always be there. I'm not going back to work until you've recovered."

She opened her mouth to point out that her level of recovery was unknown at this point, but he cut her off.

"I know what you're going to say. I do. And we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. The only future I can see is you by my side, whether it's the FBI, the X-files, whatever. So, if you'll have me, this is where I'll be." He paused a moment. "I love you, Scully. With all my heart."

Scully didn't try to stop her tears as the liquid fire of his love coursed through her heart, her soul and her mind, burning away confusion, doubt and uncertainty.

The complexity of their lives fell away. It was simply a man named Fox Mulder, passionately in love with a woman named Dana Scully, who reciprocated that love and at this moment in time, nothing else mattered.

"I love you, Mulder. Stay with me." She said, opening her arms.

"Always." He vowed with a radiant smile as he moved to pull her close, kissing her softly. "Welcome home."

THE END

If you made it this far: Thank you. I truly hoped you enjoyed this. I wrote this in 1999 and it is the piece of work that I am most proud of. There have been several requests for a sequel and I did begin one. However, season 8 and 9 stabbed my X-files writing muse what I thought was a killing blow. I didn't think I'd ever be able to write for the X-files again. I was wrong. She is slowly recovering and starting to make her presence known. The story that I never finished is trying to get written. Think positive thoughts for me and I will be trying to get it done.


End file.
